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LIBRARY

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LIBRARY

1980

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BLACKWOOD'S

MAGAZINE

VOL. CCIII.

JANUARY JUNE 1918.

NEW YORK:
THE LEONARD SCOTT PUBLICATION CO.,

HARR VKRKF.S, PROP.

249 WEST 13TH STREET.

1918,

A?

V-203

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

No. MCCXXVII.

JANUARY 1918.

VOL. CCIII.

AT THE RIVERS BRINK.

THE Hun had put up a good
rearguard fight against con-
siderably superior odds (as, to
give the devil his due, he
usually did in that part of
Africa), but in the end had
elected to retire across "The
River," destroying behind him
the only bridge which it boasted
on its whole course.

Climbing the low forest-clad
bluff, which commanded the
northern approach thereto, the
Brigade at last set eyes on the
river concerning which it had
speculated so much during the
latter phases of the campaign.
Save for its unexpected width,
it presented no unusual fea-
tures: a swift yellow flood,
close on half a mile across,
confined by sandy shores,
where the heart - breaking
thorn-bush of the interior at
length ceased, and broken at
intervals by reed - covered
islands. Beyond the far bank
stretched a wide expanse of
elephant-grass, and thence to
the horizon a waste of dry,

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII,

neutral - tinted thorn, dotted
here and there with the grot-
esque baobab, that monstrosity
among trees. No sign of life
broke the desolation of the
southern shore, but the ready
bullet which greeted the ap-
pearance of watering parties
on our bank showed that the
Hun was still in full pos-
session, and awaiting our next
move with his musket at full
cock. Taking advantage of
the plentiful cover afforded by
the trees, some of the officers
descended the forward slope of
the hill to reconnoitre the re-
mains of the bridge. This
had once been a fairly solid
structure, crossing the river
in two spans of some 300
yards each, by way of a
central island. The retiring
enemy had, however, made
time enough to destroy the
whole of it pretty thoroughly,
and the yellow waters seethed
savagely between such piles
as remained.

"750 yards, sir," reported a
A

At the River's Brink.

[Jan.

range- taker from his Barr &
Stroud, " to the tree at the
far end of the bridge."

" Some river what ? " said
the battery commander to the
Sapper; "how are you going
to put us across here ? "

"Not by this bridge, any-
how," replied the latter; "it
would take till the rains to re-
pair. It'll have to be a case of
the * flying-ferry ' again, if I can
find any place where the river
is a reasonable width. It's
quite out of the question here.
You don't want a K.E. for
this sort of job; you want a
Moses ! "

" Well, and do you mean to
tell me that the Science of
Engineering hasn't advanced
in the 4000 years since his
time ? "

"No doubt," replied the
Sapper ; " but unfortunately
the Art of Working Miracles
got lost during the same
period."

"Anyhow," continued the
Gunner, "you can't get busy
even on the ferry till we've
got some one on the other
side to stand the Hun off.
Is the river supposed to be
fordable anywhere, Moses ? It
should be about its lowest now,
just before the rains."

He was interrupted by a
cry from another of the party,
who had been searching the
river with his glasses. " Why,
there's a boat or something
coming down-stream ! "

Since another column was
known to be attempting a
similar enterprise several days'
march higher up the river, this
was by no means impossible,
and all eyes were turned on the

rapidly approaching black ob-
ject. Boat if it was, it was
obviously not under control, as
it swung this way and that as
it came. On the other hand,
water seemed to be splashing
on either side of it, as from the
erratic flailing of oars.

" It's a boat bottom up, with
men sitting on it," at length
decided the Gunner; "do you
see those things sticking up ? "

"Not it," replied the Intelli-
gence Officer, an old African
hunter; "it's a dead kiboko
(hippopotamus), and those are
his legs in the air, and, by
Jove, he's got about a dozen
crocs round eating him look ! "

By this time the corpse had
been carried down abreast of
the party, and it was apparent
that the deceased (probably
shot, poor brute, by some sports-
man with the up-river column)
was indeed the centre of attrac-
tion to a large number of croco-
diles. These were worrying
and snapping at the carcass
on all sides with gaping jaws
and threshing tails, for all the
world like a shoal of dace round
a bread-crust in a pond.

"Ten, I make them," said
the Gunner ; " ten round the
hippo, and look at those others
folio wing down-stream. They're
coming out from under every
sandbank, too. Look there,"
pointing, "and there! I can
count another dozen, besides
the ten who are at him. No,"
turning to the Sapper, "no
fording in mine, I thank you ! "

" General's compliments,"
said a despatch-rider, arriving
on j* motor-bicycle in a series
of kangaroo-like bounds over
the rough ground, "and will

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

the Engineer Officer speak to
him at onoe, please?"

"More work for Moses," re-
marked the I.O. to the others
as the Sapper moved off; "I
guess he's going to be told to
get busy with the Red Sea
stunt. I wonder did the sharks
take a hand in that affair ! "

The Brigadier was seated
writing in the exiguous shade
of a dry thorn-tree. " I want
to force the crossing to-night,"
said he, looking up; "what
boats have you available for
the job?"

"Only the eight Berthons,
sir," replied the Sapper, " and
they are not up yet, though
they should be in before dark.
There is nothing else. I have
seen no canoes, and expect the
enemy has either sunk them or
taken them across his side."

"How many men can a
Berthon take ? " was the next
question.

"Four is a full load, but for
crossing purposes you can only
reckon three a trip, as one man
must come back with the boat."

"And how many trips do
you reckon a boat ean do in an
hour?"

"Well, it seems a stiff cur-
rent : say, not more than two
there and back, at the best."

"That's between forty and
fifty men an hour, then?"

" At the very outside. The
odds are that some of the boats
won't be fit for use when they
do get in. They were pretty
old when we landed, and two
years in Africa hasn't done
them any good. They were on

their last legs when we had
finished the crossing of the
Mamba river with them last
year, and I expect the bumping
they are now getting on the
"jiggers" 1 will have holed
some of them. If they don't
get in till late and you want to
cross to-night, there will be no
time to overhaul and repair."

"H'm. Well, we've got to
have a try, anyhow, if they
turn up by dark. If they're
not in by then, they won't oast
up till to-morrow, as the jig-
gers can't run on that track
by night. Have you made
any reconnaissance of the
river yet?"

"No time so far, sir, except
just at the old bridge. It's
750 yards across there, taken
on a range-finder, and the
enemy is occupying the far
bank."

"Well, we must try some-
where else, then," said the
Brigadier, rising; "it's 4 P.M.
now, so we've got just about
two hours to find a place.
Come along," and the two of
them plunged into the eternal
bush.

The shades of night pres-
ently saw a strange procession
forcing its way along a game
trail (which is just a degree
less difficult than unadulterated
bush) towards the point on the
river, some two miles above
the German bridge, which the
Brigadier had finally selected
for the attempt. The eight
boats had actually cast up just
as darkness fell, had been rapidly

1 " Jigger " = literally : an African pest of the flea tribe ;

colloquially : term of affection for the Ford Motor Car.

At the River's Brink.

[Jan.

unloaded from the jiggers on
which they had travelled the
hundred odd miles which sepa-
rated them from the railway,
and lashed on to long poles for
porter transport. Since each
boat was composed of two
halves, and each half required
six porters and an eighteen-
foot pole, the resulting pro-
cession was of some length.
Accompanying the boats was
the personnel necessary to
work and keep them in repair.
This numbered no more than
one British subaltern and a
dozen Indian sappers, being
the remains of a unit minished
and brought low by two years
of "plague, pestilence, and
famine," or their African
equivalents of fever, dysentery,
and half rations. Finally, there
was a double company of the
Indian regiment selected for
the forlorn hope. This regi-
ment, having but recently
landed in the country, was
that African curiosity a unit
in which " establishment " and
" strength " do not differ by
very much. This again was
attended by the inevitable
host of porters, laden with the
usual impedimenta of maxims,
ammunition, entrenching tools,
medical panniers, and so forth.
Hacking with billhook and dah,
and cursing sotto voce in many
dialects of three continents,
the column crashed its way
through the thorn jungle,
while minor crashings to right
and left told of the alarm and
flight of the more rightful
users of the trail. At last the
Sapper recognised the spot
selected some hours previously.
Unpromising as this had looked

in the light of day, its appear-
ance was still less prepossess-
ing by the rays of the low
moon. Emerging from the
dark bush belt at the river's
edge, the party was confronted
by a low sandy island, crowned
with tall elephant - grass, and
running more or less parallel
with the shore on which they
stood. From the farther side
of this island the attempt was
to be made to reach the south-
ern bank of the river but first
had to be crossed a backwater
of the latter, fifty yards wide,
inky black, and up to a man's
middle.

Hoping that none of his
following had shared his after-
noon's view of the dead hippo
and its attendants, and heart-
ening himself up with that
excellent maxim, "The more
you look at it, the less you'll
like it," the leader of the
column made the plunge, emer-
ging finally amidst the reeds
of the island. While waiting
here for his following to collect,
he thought with some amuse-
ment of the advice given in the
" Child's Guide to Knowledge "
(as the official Intelligence
handbook was irreverently
termed) for crossing crocodile-
haunted rivers with impunity
i.e., always fire two or three
rifle-shots into the water first
and wondered what the
gifted author would have done
on the present occasion, where
silence was of the last import-
ance.

The column eventually as-
sembled under cover of the
reeds on the backbone of the
island, the boats were expanded
and their various components

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

fitted together. Here also the
expected, but none the less un-
pleasant, discovery was made
that the several days' bucket-
ing on the jiggers had torn the
rotten canvas of three of the
boats beyond possibility of im-
mediate repair, thus reducing
the number available to five.

From the fringe of reeds now
sheltering the party on the
crest of the island an expanse
of bare sand, shining brightly
beneath the nearly full moon,
sloped gently down for some
two hundred yards to the
water's edge. Then came the
main channel of the river,
apparently about a quarter of
a mile wide, bounded on the
far side by a similar sandbank
jutting out from the southern
shore, and just distinguishable
in the moonlight. Behind that
again a thick black belt against
the sky presumably repre-
sented the actual mainland,
but whether covered with bush
or reeds it was impossible to
tell. In the east the moon was
yet low on her climb to the
zenith low enough to cast a
golden lane athwart the black
waters. It was deathly still :
not a breeze stirred the hot
night air; not a sound was
heard but the "ping-g" of a
myriad mosquitoes, the occa-
sional clink of metal as some
boat fastening slipped into
place, and now and again a
heavy "plop" from mid-stream
as some fish pursued his lawful
occasions.

"Five boats ready, sir," re-
ported the subaltern of the boat
party.

"Get them launched, then,"
and, leaving the cover of the

reeds, five crab -like shapes
staggered through the soft
sand to the river brink, each
composed of a complete boat
borne by eight men. Once in
the water, an Indian sapper
assumed the r6le of Charon in
the bow, while the stern was
packed with three of the Sikhs.
Each man had already divested
himself of, and carried in his
hand, his bandolier, equipment,
and boots the former as swim-
ming was a very possible item
on the programme, and the
latter since a boot-heel will go
very readily through the side
of a canvas boat, especially
when the fabric is "as rotten
as pears." With this first
flight went a couple of Brit-
ish officers to reconnoitre the
enemy's shore. One was then
to remain in command of the
thirteen sepoys, while the other
returned to report results.

"Well, good luck to you,"
were the final words of their
O.C. ; " if you don't bump the
Huns (which I sincerely trust
you won't), pick out as good
a line as you can for defence
and lie doggo. But if you do
butt into them, mind you ease
off your muskets to give us the
alarm and get back if you can."
Then, after a final injunction
to the oarsmen to keep the
boats' heads well up-stream, and
to the passengers to sit down,
whatever happened, the five
craft were given a farewell
shove through the shoal water
and vanished into the gloom as
silently as could be expected.

It is surprising how little of
objects not actually on the sky-
line can be seen even in the
light of a tropic moon, which

At the River's Brink

[Jan.

appears to make the whole
scene "as light as day." A
hundred yards from the shore
and the boats were barely dis-
cernible; two hundred, and
they were one with the black
bosom of the river. An occa-
sional splash was heard from
some badly managed oar, then
all was silence.

The remainder of the party
stretched themselves on the
sand, still warm from the
scorching sun of the past day,
and endured the attentions of
the mosquitoes while awaiting
events. What of the dark,
mysterious farther shore : was
it indeed as deserted as it
seemed, or would it presently
awake to a blaze of musketry
as the heavily laden boats
toiled towards it? Unable to
sit quiet under the suspense,
and the solace of tobacco being
naturally denied them, some
of the Europeans arose and
plodded severally up and down
through the heavy sand. Ten,
twenty minutes passed . . .
then from the bosom of the
Stygian flood arose a weird
and alarming cry " Hoomph
hoomph hoomph," followed by
a heavy and bubbling sigh.

"What on earth is that?"
said one of the officers "a
hippo, I suppose. I hope to
the Lord he doesn't go for the
boats. They must have put
him up; he seems annoyed
about something, doesn't he !
What a campaign hippos,
crocodiles, and Huns all at
once!"

Silence again forty, fifty
minutes now since the boats
had left. Not a sound, except
an occasional protesting bellow

from the hippo, which now
seemed to have called up a
mate.

"I wonder whether they
make that row every night,"
said the previous speaker, " be-
cause, if not, it will probably
give the show away to the
Hun and make him suspect
there's something doing down
this way."

Another ten minutes passed :
it was now a full hour since
the departure of the flotilla,

" Looks bad," at length said
the O.C. ; " they must have
found the current too strong
and got swept down - stream.
If they had landed and met
the Boohe, we should have at
least heard some shots."

" Is that you, Colonel ? " said
a voice behind him, as a figure
arrived noiselessly over the
sand ; " we got across all right
found no Huns, and I've
come back to report."

"By Jove, but I'm glad to
see you, Jones ! But what
have you done with the
boats?"

" Oh, we rather lost our way
coming back, having no point
to steer on, and hit the shore
some way down. They're com-
ing up along the bank, so I
got out and walked to save
time."

"Well, and what about it?"

"The current is devilish
strong in the middle, and we
got taken down some way
going across also. Finally we
made the other bank a good
bit lower than I intended.
That side is much like this,
only the bush is a long way
farther back, and in between
seems to be all one big sand-

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

flat covered with reeds about
eight or ten feet high. There
is no choice of ground at all,
and I don't suppose you'll be
able to see twenty yards in
any direction even in the day-
light. We saw no signs of the
Hun at all, but I didn't like
to go too far inland while we
were so weak, in case I bumped
a patrol. So I left Smith
there and came back to report
and get the next lot. He's
going to flash his electric torch
this way from time to time
to give the boats the line.
He's got it under the bank
where it's quite safe from the
Huns."

"Did you see anything of
the hippo as you went over ? "

" Well, just where we landed
we came on a couple feeding
on the bank, right out of the
water. The sepoys didn't seem
to like the looks of them much,
and as I was afraid some of
them might start shooting, I
called out as loud as I dared,
' Yih bahut garib janwar hai ;
agar ko'i shakhs usko taklif
nahin kare, to tumko bilkul
kuohh nuksan nahin dega '
(* This is a very tame animal ;
should no man annoy him, he
will not injure you in the
least '), and fortunately the
hippos took to the water and
left us, as I was by no means
sure that I was right ! "

"I love little pussy, her coat is so

warm,
And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me

no harm,"

quoted some untimely humour-
ist in the background.

"But what about the other
jokers out in the river? We

heard a lot of grunting going
on about half an hour ago."

"I didn't see anything of
that lot myself, though I heard
them closer than I cared about
but one of the boats re-
ported that the pani ka
hathi (water elephant) had
caught hold of one of their
oars in his mouth and bitten
it off. Luckily they had a
spare one, but the crew seemed
rather to have the wind up
them over the affair."

" I don't think the hippos
mean to attack the boats,"
remarked another; "they come
up out of curiosity and try to
get a nearer look, that's all."

"It doesn't seem to make
much odds what the motive is,
as long as the boat gets upset
either way," replied Jones j
"the question is how to keep
the brutes at a distance. The
devil of it is that we can't
make a noise, for fear of bring-
ing the Hun down on us. He
seems to have got all the
animals in Africa to lend him
a hand ! " he spoke with some
feeling, having been tree'd by
a rhino a few days before when
out with a patrol.

"Well," said the O.C.,
" there's nothing for it but to
make the men in the boats
fix bayonets, and if a hippo
tries to come aboard they must
jab him in the nose. Perhaps
that will put him off a bit,
It can't make matters much
worse, anyhow, once he is as
close to the boat as all that.
Ah, here they are at last.
Now, another fifteen men,
quickly."

The five boats now began to
arrive from down-stream, towed

8

At the River's Brink.

along the edge of the island,
and a further party of Sikhs
was despatched with Jones.
And so the long, long night
wore on, live loads of men
alternating with dead loads of
maxims, shovels, ammunition
boxes, and so on, as the needs
of the slowly growing force on
the south bank dictated. The
moon, long since past the
zenith, sank westwards, and
the golden pathway now ran
up-stream. In the small hours
a fitful wind arose to chill the
still soaking men, who dozed
on the sandbank while await-
ing their turn to embark, and
in conjunction with the efforts
of the mosquitoes gave fair
promise of abundant malaria
in the future. The hippo
patrol maintained its beat in
the fairway, and presently a
crew reported having actually
engaged and driven off one of
them with the flat of the oar
and the point of the bayonet.
A curious picture, this, for the
imagination ! The twelve-foot
boat, so frail that a man could
put his shod foot through it
anywhere, so crank that to
stand upright was to invite
disaster, with its heavy load of
land-bred Indians, packed like
sardines; the black and swift
current below, and, beneath all,
the lurking crocodile. Then,
the sudden onse't of a huge
beast, unknown to Asiatic
zoology, and the silent, sway-
ing battle, with the moon-
light shimmering on blade of
oar and bayonet.

"Not much more than an-
other hour's moon left," said
the Sapper to the O.C. of the
Sikhs; "that'll mean about

[Jan.

another two trips a boat ; the
men rowing are pretty well
cooked already. I've orders to
knock off at moonset, hide the
boats behind the island, and
have everybody cleared off it
by dawn. How much more
have you got to go?"

The C.O. took stock of his
greatly diminished party, and
replied : " Twenty more men
and about four full boat-loads
of tools and so on. We should
just about do it nicely."

But things had so far run
too smoothly to continue, and
presently a mutton-fisted Sikh
let drop the bundle of tools
which he was embarking, and
a shovel -blade went right
through the canvas. The
Berthon then quietly filled and
subsided on the bottom, reduc-
ing the effective craft to four.
And so the first streaks of
dawn were already mottling
the eastern sky before the last
trip was concluded and the
final boat hurriedly hidden
beside its comrades in the lee
of the island.

Blind with sleep having by
now spent some twenty-four
exceedingly well-filled hours on
their legs the boat party again
waded the backwater, and
staggered back along the game
trail to where the Brigade
was bivouacked. Then, to the
" earliest pipe of half-awakened
bird," the Sapper cast him-
self on his valise, wondering
whether he would be lucky
enough to get even one full
hour's " shut-eye " before being
dug out again for the duties of
that day.

For twelve sunny hours the

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

9

sweating Sikhs lay "doggo"
in burrows on the reed-grown
but treeless flat covering the
landing - place on the south
bank. It was the hottest
season of the year, and the
valley of " The River " is notori-
ous as one of the hottest and
generally most pestilential
spots in Equatorial Africa.
The sand on which they lay
reflected back on them every
ray of the tropical sun, at mid-
day so vertical that the tall
reeds cast no shadow. At
times a hot breeze swayed their
tops with a dry rustle, but no
air reached the panting men
eight feet below, whose only
ease was writhing from side to
side like St Lawrence on his
grid. The ground, except
where protected from the sun
by some hapless human body,
was too hot to touch, and the
rifle-barrels blistered the naked
hand. It seemed impossible
that the cartridges in the
bandoliers should not present-
ly begin to explode. However,
the worst torment of Africa
was spared the sepoys : water
could be obtained from well-
concealed points on the bank,
where hippo-runs made path-
ways down to the river. Al-
though almost at blood-heat
from flowing over the sandy
shallows, it still served to re-
place that evaporated from the
human body.

"Agar dozakh b'rui zamin
ast hamin ast, hamin ast "
(" If there be a hell upon
earth, this is it"), misquoted
Smith, as he swabbed his
head for the hundredth time,
and wrung out his sweat-
soaked handkerchief. " Oh,

for the shade even of Jonah's
gourd ! Would night or
Bluoher would come ! "

"I don't know so much
about that," replied Jones;
"if * Bluoher' rolls up we
shall get it in the neck ; we're
very much between the devil
and the deep sea here or
between the Hun and the
mugger (crocodile), to be
more exact. However, I don't
expect him now, as I can't
imagine any patrol fool enough
to come barging into this
jungle. If our people get
another couple of double-
companies across to-night, we
should be able to leave this
furnace to - morrow, and get
up on the real bank among
what trees there are."

"And then what? I sup-
pose the Hun will be all over
us?"

" I doubt it. I expect he
has streaked off south to join
his pals at Quiloa. Anyhow,
with the best part of the
regiment on this side, we
ought to be able to put it
across him ! "

"Well, and what next? I
suppose the whole Brigade
isn't going to paddle across
by threes in those infernal
cockle-shells ? "

" Kather not : once we have
got a good hold on this bank,
and can stand the Hun off a
bit, the Sappers will get a steel
rope across the river, and run
a raft to and fro on it. They
can put over half a company
at a time, or guns, or any-
thing you like on that. That's
how we crossed the Mamba
river last year, when I was
with the ' Bahadurs.'

10

At the River's Brink.

[Jan.

" I remember," he continued,
"a thing which tickled me a
lot there. The river was
much narrower than this, and
we had a light bridge of boats
to cross by, as well as the raft.
The men and pack - animals
walked over the bridge, while
vehicles had to go by the
ferry. The bridge was made
out of these same boats (which
is what they are meant for,
not this rowing stunt), and
as it jumped about a good
bit, troops crossing had to
break step to steady it. Pres-
ently along came the * 1st
Filibusters,' with a bloke at
their head, full of importance.
The chap in charge of the
bridge sang out, * Break step,
please, when you get on the
bridge.' To which the bold
Filibuster replied, * You needn't
tell us that; we do it natur-
ally ' which was true enough,
though probably not exactly
what he meant to say !

"The mules were the very
devil. As soon as the bridge
began to jump about a bit,
they did the same, and every
now and then one of them
would go overboard. When
he fell between two of the
boats it was all right, as he
usually swam ashore some-
where. But if he landed in
a boat, his feet went right
through the bottom and it
sank. Then it had to be
taken out of the bridge and
another one put in its place,
and this held up the crossing
for about half an hour each
time it happened. Finally, we
took to swimming them across
on a rope, and I remember a
mugger got one by the nose

and held on so tight that they
hauled mule and mugger
ashore together. Will you be-
lieve it, instead of shooting the
mugger they started beating
him over the head with boat-
hooks, and presently he let
go and got away ! "

"That was just before the
scrap at Mwitu ya Chui, wasn't
it?" said the other; "there
was a yarn that an empty Staff
oar there got rather closer to
the battle than the driver cared
about. After he had got a
couple of bullets through the
hood, he concluded he'd be
better off if he left the car
and got behind a bush. He
had hardly gone to ground
when a panther, also scared out
of its life by the firing, jumped
over the bush and landed be-
tween his shoulders. Panther
and * shower ' then vanished in
opposite directions on the top
gear 1 These wild animals com-
plicate war a great deal."

" Probably not as much, after
all, as the war complicates life
for the animals," returned
Jones; "sometimes they get
quite annoyed about it, too. I
remember a scrap between one
of our patrols and a Germani
one near Kifaru last year, in
the middle of which an old
rhino got up and charged each
of them in turn. In the end
he drove the two of them com-
pletely off the field and ended
the battle. ' Signals ' is always
making a song about how the
giraffes pull down his air-line
every few days but how would
he like to be a giraffe and find
himself suddenly guillotined by
a telegraph wire across his
favourite run to water! No,

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

11

it's only scavengers like the
lions that are doing well out
of this campaign. Did you ever
hear of that man in the Mounted
Rifles who was wounded up
Simba way early in the war,
and had to lie out all night
listening to a couple of lions
eating his dead horse a few
yards off? He said it seemed
quite a long night!"

At length evening fell with-
out the enemy giving any indi-
cation at all of his presence on
the south bank. Yesterday's
sniping across the river at men
washing and drawing water
had entirely ceased, and the
opinion was generally expressed
that he had cleared off to join
his main forces in the south.
During the day better arrange-
ments were made for the ferry-
ing over of the remaining three
double-companies of the Sikhs,
one of which was the replace-
ment of the Indian rowers of
the previous night by volunteer
oarsmen from the European
regiment of the Brigade.
Fortunately there were forth-
coming enough men, whose
peace-time avocations entailed
some knowledge of aquatics, to
provide a treble relief for each
boat, and so free the few
sappers entirely for attending
to repairs. Meantime the four
damaged Berthons had been
patched, and with his whole
fleet thus re-engined and made
seaworthy, when at dusk the
Sapper again waded the back-
water to the island, he had
little doubt that by dawn he
would have the whole regiment
across " The River."

Since this second night's

ferrying was but a repetition
of that which had gone before,
without the latter's handicap
of haste and want of prepar-
ation, it is unnecessary to dwell
on it. The whole flotilla, how-
ever, was seldom in commission
at once, owing to constant
injuries to the rotten canvas
from carelessly handled loads,
or from the numerous snags in
contact with which the more
hearty methods of the European
oarsmen frequently brought the
boats. However, as each was
reported to be leaking, it was
hauled out of the water and
carried off to an improvised
workshop behind the reeds and
tinkered up by the sappers and
the light of the moon. To-night
the hippos seemed to be dis-
concerted by the increased
volume of traffic, and confined
themselves to resentful bellow-
ings. All, in fact, went well,
and by dawn the Sapper found
himself again at his bivouac,
pretty well dead to the world,
having had two hours' sleep out
of the last forty-eight.

He was not long, however, to
enjoy repose. His head seemed
hardly to have touched the
pillow when he was aroused by
a Staff Officer.

" Sorry to have to wake
you," said the latter, "but the
General wants the crossing to
go on again at once. The
Pathans are the next regiment
for it, and I am on my way to
turn them out."

"To cross in the daylight ? "
asked the Sapper.

" Yes : the Sikhs are moving
forward at once. Between you
and me, I think the Huns must
have mostly cleared off. The

12

At the River's Brink.

[Jan.

General also wants you to fix
the place for the flying-ferry as
soon as possible, and let him
know where it will be," and he
departed.

The Sapper roused the un-
fortunate subaltern of the boat
party. "Look here," he said,
"you must carry on with get-
ting the Pathans across
they'll have to row themselves.
We can't very well turn out
again the men who have just
been at it all night, and your
fellows have got their hands
full with mending the boats.
I'm off to have a last look for
a decent site for the flying-
ferry. They'll probably want
it up by to-morrow. I tried
up-stream yesterday, and I'm
now going to have a last look
down-stream from here. So
you'll know where to find me
if I am wanted."

Not long after he was cross-
ing the shoulder of " Look-out
Hill " (as had since been christ-
ened the low forest-clad bluff,
from whence he had watched
the passing of the dead hippo),
and paused to look back up the
river towards the scene of his
nightly labours. The crossing
of the Pathans was already
in full swing, and for some
moments he watched the boats
over the intervening two miles
of water. All seemed quiet,
and the Pathans to be handling
the boats better than he had
expected.

"No doubt the Hun has
cleared," he said to himself, as
he turned his back on the
scene and descended the hill
on his farther quest ; " the
Sikhs must be some way inland
by now. I'll have to look
sharp and find a site for the

ferry, as we're sure to have to
start fixing it up to-day."

It may be of interest to give
a brief description of the "fly-
ing-ferry," of which mention
has been made several times.
Its most important component
is a steel hawser some three
inches in circumference, sus-
pended in the air across the
river, and held up in this posi-
tion by an extemporised scaffold
on each bank. Between these
the cable is stretched as taut
as may be, and a "traveller"
(Anglice, a pulley) is threaded
on to it, so as to run easily in
either direction. Now, if a
boat be connected to this tra-
veller by one rope from its stem
and another from its stern, it is
obvious that by adjusting their
respective lengths the boat can
be set and maintained at any
angle with the current. If the
latter be not too sluggish, the
immediate result of thus placing
the boat diagonally to it is that
the boat commences to travel
across the river. The principle
is precisely that (mutatis mu-
tandis) of a yacht sailing on a
broad reach. In place of her
sail set at an angle to the wind,
you have the keel of the ferry-
boat maintained at an angle to
the stream, leeway being pre-
vented by the steel cable, which
exists solely to discharge the
function of the yacht's centre-
board.

As soon as the prospect of
knocking a hole in the opposite
bank becomes imminent the
stern rope is released, the boat
(being now secured to the cable
by the bow rope only) comes
up head to stream, loses her
way and arrives handsomely
alongside the landing - place.

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

13

That is, if the operator con-
ducts the operation neatly and
lets go at the right psychologi-
cal moment ; otherwise the re-
sulting bump is apt to expedite
the landing of the passengers
very materially. For the re-
turn trip the procedure is merely
reversed, and the boat set the
opposite way across the cur-
rent. With the exception that
the Sapper's ferry would con-
sist of two large pontoons,
decked in and capable of carry-
ing five tons at a time, such was
the contrivance for which he
was seeking a site.

It will be evident that the
chief desiderata are a regular
current and a moderate span.
However taut a cable may be
stretched there must always be
a very appreciable sag in the
middle, and the greater the
width the lower does this bight
hang down. The more lofty,
consequently, must the scaffolds
be on the two banks, so as to
raise the cable clear of the
water at the centre. The me-
chanical difficulties in the erec-
tion of very lofty scaffolds, and
also of suspending a great
length of heavy cable between
them, are considerable, and the
practical limit of such a ferry
is reached with a span of be-
tween three and four hundred
yards.

Some hours later, having de-
cided on the site possessed of
the fewest disadvantages, the
Sapper was retracing his steps
up the hill when he became
aware of distant firing across
the river, in which was dis-
tinguishable the drumming of
several maxims. "The Sikhs
must have bumped something
after all," was his reflection,

and he quickened his pace up
the hill to see what was hap-
pening.

On the top he found the
Brigadier gazing through his
glasses at the distant boats.
These were still plying on the
river, but apparently rather
erratically.

"Good morning," said the
latter ; " the Sikhs seem to be
well into it on the other side.
Some of the enemy, too, are
sniping at the boats from up-
and down-stream of the bit of
bank we are holding."

He had hardly spoken when
there was the report of a field-
gun from somewhere across the
river, and a fountain of water
presently arose in mid-stream,
short of the line on which the
boats were plying. Another re-
port followed, and a shell burst
beyond them on our bank.

"That's the bracket," re-
marked one of the spectators ;
"now the boats are in for a
plastering. I wonder where
the Hun has got his guns."
As he spoke there were two
reports in quick succession, a
couple of white clouds suddenly
appeared in the air above the
river, and its surface was lashed
with the descending shrapnel.
Fortunately the enemy had
only two guns bearing on this
point, and for a space the boats
made shift to endure the
punishment. Soon, however,
some of them were seen to be
low in the water and in evident
difficulties, but all at length
succeeded in reaching the
island shore. Here the rowers
beached them with commend-
able coolness, and then made
for the cover of the reeds, bear-
ing their sculls with them.

14

At the River's Brink.

[Jan.

"Telephone message, sir,"
said the Staff Officer, "from
the O.C. of the Pathans at the
crossing to say the boats are
under a cross fire of two
maxims, and that shrapnel has
just been opened on them. He
says that four of them are
badly holed already, and wants
to know if he is to carry on.
He's only got one company
across so far."

"Tell him to get the sound
boats under cover behind the
island, and keep his men there,
too, till further orders;" then to
the Sapper, "I'm afraid we'll
have to stop the crossing till
dark. We can't risk having
all the boats knocked out and
being out off from the other
side entirely. Be ready to
begin again as soon as possible
after sunset, and get the rest
of the Pathans across then,
and the Gurkhas after them.
The Sikhs will just have to
stick it out till then, but to-
morrow we should be able to
push on again."

Having thus no special job
till evening, and being some-
what leg-weary, the Sapper de-
bated whether to stay and see
the fun or return to his valise
and try to make up the two
nights' sleep of which he was
deficient. However, as our
large and varied collection of
artillery was now engaging the
opposite bank with a din which
put any prospect of sleep en-
tirely out of the question, he
elected to remain. So tele-
phoning down to the island
for the sappers to repair what
boats they could reach, and
then return to camp and get
some food and rest against
their coming labours of the

night, he made the best of the
very "dappled" shade of a
dry thorn-tree, and watched
the shooting. Since the oppo-
site shore was all dense bush,
where it was not elephant-
grass, location of the enemy
was most difficult, and beyond
a general plastering of the area
where he was supposed to be,
our artillery did not seem to
be accomplishing much. That
in any case it did not incom-
mode him very seriously was
apparent from the fact that the
Sikhs were gradually pressed
back on to the river flat,
whence they had advanced
that morning. Once back in
the dense elephant-grass they
were able to make head against
the superior numbers of the
enemy, and a stationary fire-
fight ensued ior some hours.

Meanwhile the hostile guns
had lost their first handsome
target of the boats, all that
were still seaworthy having
been hurriedly withdrawn be-
hind the island. After expend-
ing some rounds on the few
derelicts stranded here and
there along the sandbank, and
being unable to shell the Sikhs
without equally punishing their
own men, the enemy's artillery
amused itself with shooting at
the top of "Look-out Hill,"
and searching for the Brigade
bivouac with shrapnel. The
inaction of the day before was
entirely gone ; instead, the
whole of the opposite bank
seemed to be alive with snipers,
who kept up a brisk fire on
anything they saw moving
across the river.

It now seemed clear that our
crossing on the previous two
nights must have taken the

1918.]

At the River's Brink.

15

enemy entirely by surprise.
He had evidently been playing
'possum all the day before, in
the hope that he might lure us
into attempting an incautious
passage at the old bridge,
where he was doubtless excel-
lently well prepared to receive
us. Hence his rage and despair
at rising in the morning to
find a " force in being " already
across the river and moving on
his flank. He was now making
strenuous, if somewhat belated,
efforts to abolish it, doubtless
realising that it would be again
so reinforced during the com-
ing night as to leave him little
hope of success the following
day.

As evening drew nigh, there
took place the most dramatic
incident of the day. The Sikhs,
who had been hard pressed
since morning, began to run
short of ammunition, and sig-
nalled across to that effect.
There was nothing for it but
to call upon the Pathans, still
waiting under the lee of the
island till the fall of darkness
should permit them to cross,
to try and get some over the
river by broad daylight, and
in face of the enemy.

Volunteers having been ob-
tained, two of the still sound
boats were rushed across the
sandbank to the water's edge,
loaded with ammunition boxes,
and shoved off for the other
shore all in full view of the
enemy, and under the cross fire
of two maxims, to say nothing
of numerous snipers. Marvel-
lous to relate, but one of the
gallant four, 1 who composed the
two crews, was killed. His com-

panion, however, seized both
sculls and managed to bring
the boat and its precious load
safely to land. The second boat
was lucky enough to escape
with no casualties at all.

Leaving out of the question
the extreme gallantry of the
deed, there is something pecu-
liarly inspiring to the Briton
in the picture of the Pathan
risking his life to bear succour
to the Sikh in their common
service of the Raj. The two
races are widely apart in reli-
gion, language, and customs.
While (ex. grat.) the Pathan
shaves his head, smokes tobacco,
and eats beef, but is forbidden
to look upon the wine of any
colour, the Sikh's faith forbids
him to slay the sacred cow,
smoke, or cut his hair. As
compensation he is under no
obligation to "down glasses,"
and has a well-developed taste
for ration rum. If I add the
generalisation that the Path-
an's thoughts are chiefly about
women, and those of the Sikh
about money, I trust the Eng-
lish reader will realise that
they are at least as diverse
peoples as Ulster Presbyterians
and Catholic Sinn Feiners.
Nor are they any less inveter-
ate and hereditary foes. The
Sikh, a plainsman whoso origin
lay in the economic necessity
of some buffer between India
and the Pathan raiders from
the trans-Indus hills, was wont
cheerfully to burn any cap-
tured mountaineer in a pig-
skin, and so destroy him both
for Time and Eternity. In
return, unmentionable mutila-
tion became the portion of any

1 All four received the Indian " Order of Merit/

16

At the River's Brink.

[Jan.

unhappy Sikh who fell into
the hands of the border Ma-
homedan. These pleasing cus-
toms are by no means yet
extinct, as has been witnessed
in many a recent Frontier cam-
paign, where the two races
once more find themselves op-
posed. Would that the British
Raj had proved as successful
in its dealings with the less
martial races of India as it
has with the warrior castes :
it is hard to picture a Bengali
baboo risking his skin to assist
(let us say) a Poona Brahmin
unless, of course, the object
was attractively seditious!

Though probably mere co-
incidence, the triumphant pas-
sage of the ammunition seemed
to dispirit the enemy; the
pressure on the Sikhs forth-
with began to relax, and by
dark the firing had almost
entirely died away.

Then began the third night
of the crossing, which bade
fair to be considerably more
crowded with incident than
the previous two. Since the
Hun was now well aware of
the line to which the boats
were committed, and must also
have known the range to an
inch, it was taken for granted
that he would at least spray
the channel and island with
his maxims at intervals during
the night. To distract his at-
tention, therefore, it was sought
to delude him with the idea
that we were abandoning the
upper crossing in favour of a
fresh enterprise at the site of
his old bridge, two miles lower
down. To this end a portable
searchlight was rigged up to

cast its beam across the river
at this point, and much ham-
mering and shouting arranged
for his edification on our bank.

The Hun is occasionally sur-
prisingly simple: this appar-
ently harmonised with his
preconceptions of British in-
stability of purpose. He swal-
lowed the bait with avidity :
while a furious and incessant
fusilade wasted itself on the
bank round the searchlight,
hardly a shot was fired at the
area in which the boats plied
as usual, hour after hour, all
night long.

When darkness fell, no more
than half of these were still
seaworthy, but those crippled
and abandoned during the day
were one by one recovered and
tinkered up by the sappers,
till by midnight the whole fleet
was once more under way.
Since the only special item of
excitement on this third night
was the total loss of one boat,
upset in mid-stream by a hippo,
it would be wearisome to dwell
on it. Suffice it to say that
to such good effect did the
volunteer crews lay to it, that
by dawn not only had the
numerous wounded of the
Sikhs been fetched back across
the river, but the whole of the
Pathans and also the Gurkhas
had been landed on the farther
shore.

With the force on the south
bank thus at last in a position
to deal faithfully with the foe,
the episode of " The Forcing of
'The River'" passes to join
other memories of a minor side-
show in The Great War.

BATOTJRI.

1918.] 17

WITH THE ARMOURED CARS IN GALICIA. II.
THE RUSSIAN RETREAT AS WE SAW IT.

IT had been a bitter dis- tillery and transport parks
appointment to us that the and the Red Cross hospitals
Russian attack of July 1 had all moved during the
failed to take Brejani and so night. We were the last to
open the way to Lemberg. leave, and as we moved along
We had already fought in the road we saw the terrified
several retreats, and were villagers- collected in a mass,
looking forward to a "drive" gazing wide-eyed and listen-
through the enemy country, ing to the sound of the guns,
For months we had dreamed gradually getting nearer,
of getting the enemy on the The morning was dull and
run. We had heard such cold, but fortunately fine,
glowing accounts of Lemberg The roads around us were
Lvov, as our Allies called not chaussde but ordinary dirt
it from Russian officers who roads, and in wet weather
had been there, so perhaps it they are a terrible drawback
can be imagined what a blow to us.

it was to us when we learned We spent most of the morn-

on the evening of July 20 ing reconnoitring the roads,

that the army on our right, as the staff work was already

which had been so successful, entirely disorganised, and our

was in full retreat. job was to keep the staff

News travels slowly in furnished with information as

Russia. Scarcely had we to the enemy's whereabouts,

heard of the retreat when We tried several roads, and

news reached us that the at first found everything quiet,

retiring army had been com- Overhead, however, the enemy

pletely turned and the road aeroplanes hovered oontinu-

from Tarnopol to Brejani ously. We were very badly

threatened, thereby imperil- served in this respect, and

ling our own position. All ours were seldom to be seen,

oars were ordered to stand About eleven o'clock in the

by in readiness, though as a morning, whilst operating with

matter of fact this was a the Orenburg Cossacks, we

mere formality, as we were got into touch with the enemy

always ready. We left in infantry evidently much to

the pale grey dawn on the their surprise, for ' they were

following morning after a calmly advancing in the open,

hurried cup of tea to wash having thrown discretion to

the biscuits down. The vil- the winds. It was just the

lage where we had been chance one prays for, and we

billeted had evidently re- did not neglect it. We taught

ceived the news, for the ar- them a severe lesson, and were

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII. B

18

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. //.

able to hold up their advance
for some hours.

The Austrians had evidently
advanced so swiftly that they
had made no effort to dig
themselves in, and had been
resting in temporary trenches
awaiting another rapid ad-
vance ahead of their artillery.
About noon the enemy got
his guns into play, and we
soon had a hot time. We
had been using the village of
Vimisloovka to screen our cars,
but had to clear out. We
found cover, however, in ad-
vance of the village in a dip
of the road, and waited for
the next move. We had not
long to wait, for the infantry
soon began another advance,
and going out to meet them
we got them fair and square,
and mowed them down in
hundreds. We on our part
did not get off scot-free. One
of our cars was struck by a
shell splinter, and its engine
was damaged. The crew tried
to repair it under heavy fire
but failed, and so they re-
moved all guns and spare
parts and smashed the car
up, finally setting fire to the
petrol tank. They were only
just in time. One of the party
was badly wounded, but was
taken away safely. However,
these lonely efforts could not
be kept up for long. We had
held the enemy for several
hours, and during this time
the Russians were in full re-
treat. They flung away their
rifles and abandoned their
machine-guns ; took off their
boots even in order to run
faster. In vain did their
officers strive to hold them

[Jan.

back. We retreated slowly,
fighting all the time, and
again had to run the gauntlet
in the village, which was by
this time almost destroyed.
This village was full of peas-
ants old men, women, and
children. The fact that it
was full of their own people
did not deter the Austrians
from shelling it. Poor simple
people ! too well they knew
what war was. Hammered
alike by friend and foe, their
lot was not an enviable one.
We soon got to the cross-
roads, and several cars took
the road to the left, where
things were beginning to
liven up. "Ted " like the
true Irishman he was went
straight ahead into the thick
of it, and had "the time of
his life," as he said. Again
the enemy were in the open,
and at almost point - blank
range he pegged away at them
until his gun was outed. He
was quite proud of his oar,
which had been simply plas-
tered with bullets ; but in
spite of the use by the enemy
of armour - piercing bullets,
Beardmores justified their
reputation, and their armour
kept them out.

Meanwhile, still farther to
the left, several oars had out
across country, ignoring the
fact that there were no roads,
mine among the number. An-
other thrust was beginning,
and a furious fusilade greeted
our ears. Making for the spot
from whence the sound came,
we passed between two bat-
teries of field-guns placed in
the open. Their horses were
all harnessed ready for mov-

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. II.

19

ing ; and the guns were belch-
ing away, firing their few re-
maining rounds. There in the
distance we oould see the
grey -blue uniforms advancing
in wave after wave, but un-
fortunately broken ground,
culminating in a ravine, in-
tervened, and we oould go
no farther. It was a strange
scene. A flash, a roar from
the field-guns, a puff of white
smoke over the enemy, and
some advanced no farther as
the shrapnel did its deadly
work. I was talking to the
Artillery observation officer,
and he told me in the bitter-
est language the story of the
previous day's retreat. Ap-
parently the pikhod (infantry)
made no show at all, but ran
for their lives, and the artil-
lery, with the greatest diifi-
oulty, were able to get their
guns away. We waited ex-
pectant, for a Finnish regi-
ment was in the trenches,
and it had a reputation. The
seconds went by, and at every
one we expected it to come
to grips with the enemy. But
no another surprise was in
store for us ; for suddenly, with
wild shouts and cries, the
Russian soldiers left the
trenches and ran for their
lives, throwing down their
rifles and their baggage as
they had done earlier in the
morning. Surely we were
dreaming ! Was this the
Russian soldier who, with
almost bare fists, had fought
the Germans during the re-
treat of 1915? Were these
men the same race as those
who had fought with us in
the Caucasus, in the Dobrudja

and Roumauia before the
Revolution? It was a cruel
blow to us, but it was only
the beginning. Across the
plain poured the Russians,
the last to leave the trenches
being the colonel, badly
wounded in the head. Our
cars were closed for action,
for we expected the enemy
to push on, having met with
no opposition. Thinking, per-
haps, that we too were going
to run, the panic - stricken
soldiers crowded on our oars,
and we inside were quite help-
less. As the enemy shrapnel
burst overhead, more and more
soldiers crowded on. The ears
were all too heavily laden to
move, and the soldiers stand-
ing round the doors, which
opened outwards, prevented
them from being opened. We
tried to run forward, as we
knew then they would soon
desert us ; but torque rods
broke, and we could not
move an inch. Heedless of
whether we killed any of
them or not, we loosed off with
the machine guns, and this
had the desired effect. It
cleared the soldiers from
around the doors and enabled
us to get out. It was then
easy work, for we simply
hopped into them with our
fists, and they were too
scared to think of retaliation.
We waited for the oncom-
ing enemy, but we waited in
vain and how we cursed the
ravine that separated us.
Doubtless our foes were out
of breath, also perhaps wait-
ing for their guns to come up.
For three hours we waited on
this open plain absolutely alone,

20

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. II.

[Jan,

knowing nothing of how things
were going on around us,
though the huge fires of burn-
ing villages and terrific ex-
plosions of ammunition dumps
told us that the Russians were
still retreating everywhere and
destroying everything in their
retreat. However, we hoped
to have the honour of holding
up the enemy single-handed,
and had they advanced it
would have been easy, for the
Austrian is no fighter. He
looks nice with his rows of
gaudy ribbons, but, though I
suppose we must not despise
him, he outs a very poor figure
without help from the Boohe.
Towards evening we got sick
of waiting petrol was scarce
too so we went into Kosoovka,
a tiny little village, intending
to report at Kosova, which had
been the site of our Head-
quarters. On the way we
met a large oar containing
a number of Staff officers, and
a colonel hailed us in vile
French and said, "English-
men, where are you going ? "
In equally vile French we ex-
plained the position, telling
him that as we had been on
our own for three hours we
thought it was time to get on
to the main road our one and
only line of retreat. He was a
cheery optimist, and told us
that a regiment would be up
in a few moments, and that
the advance of the enemy
would soon be checked. Hav-
ing witnessed several cross-
country runs, which would
have been a credit to any
Harriers' club, we did not
share his optimism ; but it
was not for us to reason why,

so we went back again, one car
being despatched for petrol.

With the sun getting low in
the heavens, we took up our
lone stand, and after about
half an hour the long-looked-
for supports came up, and the
usual introductions and hand-
shakings took place. The plan
of action was then made known
to the men, and we witnessed
a degrading spectacle. There,
with the Austrians preparing
for a further advance, the
" deputies " of the regiment
had to convene a meeting to
decide whether they were suf-
ficiently strong a force to do
the required work. Their de-
cision, however, was hastened
by the enemy, who, having
got his guns up, sent a few
rounds of shrapnel overhead
as a reminder that we were
at war, and not playing at
politics. The first casualty
soon occurred, one brawny
fellow near me getting a good
lump of shrapnel in the part
of his anatomy used as seat-
ing accommodation. His piti-
ful wail, " Oy tavarish
oy tavarish " (oh, comrade)
brought to my mind the fact
that I had a flask of vodka
the pre-war drink of all the
Russias. I emptied my flask
down his throat, but the only
effect it had was to make him
violently sick and extremely
blasphemous. What base in-
gratitude ! The sun made its
last bow, and just to enliven
the monotony, enemy aero-
planes paid us a visit. Fly-
ing very low, they had no
difficulty in spotting our cars,
and we had a very worrying
time. Without an atom of

1918,]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. //.

21

cover to conceal us, we were
easy victims for their prying
eyes, and again and again we
had to move our oars from
place to place; but wherever
we went a salvo of shells
followed us. Eventually we
got tired of this game of
" tip and run," so gave it up,
and let the enemy have a little
target practice, when we were
surprised to find out what
rotten shots they were agree-
ably surprised, I should say.
We have often said jokingly,
"When in doubt light a
Primus," for all our cars are
equipped with them; so we
got one on the go and pre-
pared a meal if bully and
biscuits can be so named.

We began to feel grateful for
the dusk and the quiet, when
suddenly a confusion of sounds
greeted our ears, and there on
the skyline we could discern
a long line of figures coming
towards us. We soon realised
what it was. The division on
our left, defending the chauss6e
road, had just bolted from the
trenches. We expected at least
that the enemy were on the
top of them, so we got on board
and fingered the old " maxims "
lovingly. At the double came
the Russians, their cross-country
run culminating in such a sprint
that as they reached us they
collapsed in all stages of panic
and exhaustion. But I will
not dwell on it, for it was too
pitiful for words. We were
very worried, for with this
division we had several guns'
crews, and we wondered what
their fate was. These fellows
had worked laboriously, hauling
their guns into the trenches in

order to cover the chausstie road
to Bejani if the enemy at-
tempted to use cars on that
road. As soon as our C.O.
realised these guns were not
likely to be used he endeavoured
to obtain permission to with-
draw the guns, as both they
and the crews had been exposed
for days to heavy shell fire.
This was refused, and it was
pointed out that our men a
mere handful were keeping a
whole division in the trenches,
amazing as it sounds. How-
ever, we heard later on that the
guns had been smashed up and
the crews had got safely away,
so our anxiety was somewhat
allayed. We waited some time
for the continuation of the
enemy advance, but night came
on and nothing more happened.
I must confess we were all
rather relieved when orders
came from the Staff advising
us that a further " retirement "
was contemplated during the
night, and as our cars were
required in a different district
on the morrow we had to get
a move on. Our destination
was an aerodrome on the road
to Buchaoh, but as a part of
this road was out a detour
was necessary. We already
had had eighteen hours of it
and were fagged out, so the
journey of twenty miles did
not appeal to us. Our de-
tour was not very successful
either. We were going along
groping in the dark when our
passage was arrested by two
huge shell-holes 12 inohers
right across the road, so an-
other detour was necessary
this time across country. Every
one was confident he knew the

22

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. II.

[Jan.

way, but nobody really did.
However we followed the lights
of the Holla Royoe which were
the best, and trusted to luck.
Again and again we got on
the wrong track. Their name
was "legion," and there was
nothing whatever to guide us,
though we knew roughly the
required direction. The guns
thundered ominously, and the
whole countryside appeared to
be lighted up, shedding a lurid
glow in the sky. Endeavouring
to follow the lights of the
Rolls Royce, the oar immedi-
ately in front of mine got
bogged and we had to extricate
it and work out our own salva-
tion. How we toiled and cursed,
encouraged and coaxed, till
finally as a reward we reached
the chausse'e road from Buohach
to Brejani. Here the confusion
was appalling, and our pace was
instantly reduced to about two
miles per hour. Amid fearful
congestion, all the impediments
of a huge army struggled
along in an endless procession
streams of guns, transport
waggons, ammunition limbers.
Infantry, cavalry, and artillery
were in full flight the former
hopelessly and helplessly panic-
stricken, the night air resound-
ing with their cries of fear
intermingled with foul oaths.
One would see huge American
naval guns transported in three
pieces, each section being drawn
by fourteen horses. Only two
days previously these guns had
relentlessly pounded the enemy
lines. A noisy, thumping
steam-roller gave a touch of
grim humour to the tragedy.
We recalled the catch phrase
"The Russian steam-roller."

An entire lack of organisation
was noticeable, and we, who
had hoped for so much from
our Russian Allies, found our-
selves carried along on the
ebbing tide in the midst of a
terrified mob whose one and
only idea seemed to be to put
as much space between them-
selves and their enemy as
possible.

We barged our way through
with much blowing of Klaxons,
and eventually reached Pod-
gaitse a town of sorts. Here
the confusion was worse than
ever, and to add to our dis-
comfort, rain came down in
torrents. Podgaitse was full
of hospitals, including an
English hospital, and many
of the hospitals found the
transport placed at their dis-
posal hopelessly inadequate.
Someone had blundered. There
was only one thing to be
done, and that was to get the
wounded and the sisters away
as quickly as possible, and this
was done. Stretchers would
be lifted on bumping transport
waggons; nurses, having bade
a tender farewell to their
worldly possessions, perched
themselves on gun - carriages
and travelling cook - houses.
I remember passing one sister
trudging along in the mud
and rain. I stopped my car
and inquired in my best Rus-
sian which was pretty bad,
I admit if I could give her
a lift. Though a Russian, she
replied in perfect English,
"No, thank you my patients
are on these two waggons and
I don't want to lose them."
At all events, she had pluck.
Progress became slower and

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. II.

23

slower, but at length we
reached our aerodrome just as
dawn was breaking. Tired,
grimy, and extremely depressed,
we had a oup of tea and some
food, and dropped asleep on
the ground. How we blessed
the thoughtful Camp Com-
mandant for that welcome cup
of tea.

We were not to sleep long,
however, for about seven
o'clock we were all turned
out to look over our oars and
replenish our stores of petrol
and ammunition ready for a
further effort, No news came
to us, but the state of the
roads with its endless pro-
cession told us all we wanted
to know. A number of British
aviators were at the aero-
drome, including poor Jimmy
Valentine who has since died
at Kieff. They intended fly-
ing their machines away and
leaving us to burn the place
down, which we did later.

At eleven o'clock we got
our marching orders. A
squadron of oars waja ordered
to go along the chamse'e road
through Podgaitse to a small
village called Moojiloor, which
we had passed the previous
night. As we left the camp,
the inevitable camera fiend, in
the shape of the 'Daily
Mirror* man, turned up
goodness knows from where
and we had to face the camera.
I have not seen him since, but
I hope he got away safely.
Our progress was slow, owing
to the badly organised traffic,
which at times completely
blocked the roads, and the
continual stopping warmed
our oars up to such an extent

that it necessitated a halt in
the market square of Podgaitse
in order to fill up the radiators
with water. Podgaitse in day-
light was not a bad little
town, peopled by Austrian
Poles and Jews. It was, how-
ever, very war-worn, and the
majority of the best houses
had been converted into hos-
pitals. These had all been
evacuated, giving the place
a very deserted appearance.
We were proceeding to fill up
our radiators in a leisurely
manner, when suddenly, with
screams and cries of " Nemetski
cavalari " (German cavalry),
horses with carts driven by
frenzied drivers galloped into
the town. Anticipating trouble,
we at once endeavoured to get
our ears across the road to
form a barrier, but we were
not quite quick enough. In
vain did we plead with them,
expostulate with them, curse
them, and even threaten them.
We stood in the streets and
pointed revolvers at the mob,
and told the terror-stricken
" tavarish " (comrade used
since the Revolution) that it
was only the work of German
agents. "S'monoclem" (the
gent with a monocle), who
was an excellent Russian
linguist, was in fine form;
but even his flow of patriotic
eloquence failed to move the
Russians. It was perfectly
useless. One and all had seen
the German lancers driving
the fleeing Russian infantry
before them. Wonderful im-
aginations they were gifted
with.

To give a touch of realism
to the scene, a travelling cook-

24

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. //.

[Jan.

house, going at full gallop, col-
lided with a loaded ammunition
limber and an explosion en-
sued. "They're shelling us,"
wailed the mob, by this time
hopelessly blocked in the narrow
streets. I am attempting the
impossible when I try to de-
scribe it. In less than ten min-
utes from the commencement
the whole town was packed
tight with transport coming
from all directions and trying
to go in one away from the
enemy. Horses and carts over-
turned in heaps, horses with
legs broken and with hoofs torn
off, writhing in their dying
agony a howling, frenzied
mob : such was the sight. To
lighten their carts and so facili-
tate retreat, drivers emptied
their loads anywhere. Sacks of
sugar, flour, bales of provender,
officers' kits, cases of hand-
grenades, field-gun ammunition,
spare wheels, and even over-
coats and rifles, were all thrown
into the streets. Many drivers
even cut their traces and,
mounting their horses, left their
carts behind. At the windows
were the grinning faces of the
civil population. To 'them it
was a huge joke, but to

us -. My fingers itched to

empty my Webley Automatic
into them. Doubtless a Hun
would have done so. Think-
ing that perhaps it was as
well to find out if there really
was anything in it, we went
into an empty house, got into
the garret, smashed a hole
in the roof, and had a look
round through our field-glasses.
Everything was quiet even
peaceful. There in the valley,
thrje miles distant, we could

see cattle grazing peacefully.
We returned to our cars and
tried to persuade the crowd
that they had been mistaken,
but "they didn't believe us."
We spent the next hour organ-
ising the traffic so that they
could get away. A Cossack
officer helped us, using his
" knout " (a lead-tipped whip)
very freely. He was the only
Russian officer we saw. We
heard later that this panic
spread the entire length of the
road through Buohach, Chert-
kov, to Husiatyu on the fron-
tier, and terrible scenes were
witnessed. It was all a put-
up job by the Germans, but
it worked very well. In this
stunt we had a transport car
so badly damaged that it was
not worth removing. We set
fire to it, leaving nothing for
the Hun except our cards with
an invitation to come along, as
we were anxious to renew his
acquaintance, and a few days
later he accepted our invitation.
After a delay of nearly four
hours, we eventually reached
our intended destination and
reported to the Staff at Moo-
jiloov. There we learned that
a retirement to Podgaitse was
contemplated during the night.
The exodus of the transport
had left the men at the front
with no food or reserve of
ammunition. Nothing of inci-
dent occurred during the night,
though we had a scrap or two
with enemy advanced posts
and dispersed them. The re-
tirement was effected success-
fully and without loss. Un-
fortunately these retirements
were yielding to the enemy
thousands of acres of rich land,

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. //.

25

with magnificent crops almost
ready for the reaper. The
enemy had doubtless chosen
this moment to replenish his
larders.

In the early hours of July
23 we learned that the enemy
was advancing from the north
through Tarnopol in the direc-
tion of Buohaoh, hoping to
out off the defenders of the
Buohaoh-Brejani road, which
ran from east to west. The
new advance was particularly
rapid, and we were at once
rushed back from our sector
and sent up there. The morn-
ing was a miserable one. Most
mornings are if you make their
acquaintance too early. A
bitterly cold wind swept across
the country, and the sky was
dull and gloomy. It compared
very favourably with our minds
and tempers. Our road was a
magnificent one, quite as good
as an English road. Every-
where were the retreating Rus-
sians, many of them with the
left hand bandaged. Infantry,
artillery, with their attendant
transport, straggled all over
the road, and our progress was
painfully slow. Not a trace
of disappointment could be seen
on the faces of the Russians.
They were glad to be coming
away from the fighting, and
our cars going towards the
enemy provoked cries of deri-
sion. This does not, of course,
apply to the officers, who were
desperately brave but could do
nothing alone. About eight
o'clock we reached the tiny
village of Kamiloovka, where
the Carps' Headquarters were
stationed, and at once reported
to the Chief of the Corps.

The General fortunately spoke
perfect English, and at once
admitted the sad state of
affairs and his lack of infor-
mation, which he hoped we
should be able to correct. He
also ordered us to shoot down
any troops we met retreating ;
but when it was explained to
him that this was impossible
for us, he withdrew this order
though rather reluctantly.

We left the village and
reached Darakoov, about six
versts distant, where we split
forces some cars going
straight along the chaussde
road towards Tarnopol, and
others turning to the left and
striking across country. My
car was among the latter, and
our objective was first a small
hamlet where the divisional
headquarters had been. On
the way we got bogged in the
soft earth, and our oar refused
to pull herself out owing to the
epicyolio gears slipping, so it
was a case of "Take her up
another notch, Bill" a catch
phrase of ours. While this was
being done shells begau to fall
in our vicinity, and we could
not make out from which
direction they were coming.
We reached the hamlet, which
was deserted and was being
shelled, and went four miles
the other side of it. The only
people we saw were two
Russian soldiers, one of whom
was wounded. Both of them
advanced to us with their arms
up in the air, in the approved
Kamerad manner, thinking we
were enemy cars. We cursed
them and went on. We went
along country and into villages
reported to have been long in

26 With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. II. [Jan.

the enemy's hands, and found ing Fritz and his ally along
neither friend nor foe there, so the road any moment, we
about eleven o'clock we re- thought they were mad, and
turned to Darakoov to compare were impolite enough to tell
notes with the other oars, them so. However, they had
Their experiences had been just actually been given permission
the same. They had been from some one at the Staff,
down the road for ten miles and no words of ours could
and had seen nothing except prevent them from going, much
a squadron of Cossacks, but as we tried. About two hours
they too had been shelled. We afterwards we paid another
sent in the results of our visit to the hamlet Pan-
reconnaissance to the General, tiloovka it was called and
who seemed more than sur- found the enemy just entering
prised, and again we set off, the village, apparently advanc-
this time to find and engage ing from a north - easterly
the enemy. We took the same direction. We got them en-
routes as before, and the cross- tirely by surprise at a range
country oars again were shelled, of 200 yards, and drove them
When we reached the small out, killing a large number,
hamlet we found that shell Our enemy this time were
after shell was being pumped Germans, and it gave us much
into it, and to our amazement more satisfaction to get up
discovered that it was the against them.
Russian artillery shelling an Apparently they had had
empty hamlet and our own enough, for though we waited
oars. A message was sent in for another venture they did
to the General, who inquired not come again. A motor-
into the matter and had things cyclist came tearing up to
righted with apologies to us. order us all on the chausse'e
About twelve o'clock we were road, as the enemy was ad-
surprised to see a Red Cross vancing beyond Darakoov.
convoy, composed of about We dashed back, and again
thirty waggons, coming along were able to do great execu-
the road, making towards tion, getting excellent targets.
Tarnopol. When it came up, Though the enemy was in open
we recognised old acquaint- order, we were able to arrest
anoes of ours, they having been the frontal attack absolutely ;
stationed only two versts away but as no Russian infantry
from us before the retreat was within five versts, and the
commenced. Count and enemy had managed to ad-
Princess both spoke ex- vance further south over bad

oellent English, so we had ground, we were obliged to

quite a pow-wow. We inquired withdraw slightly for fear of

where they were going, and to having the chausse'e road out

our astonishment they told us behind us. We wondered what

they intended setting up an had become of the hospital,

hospital about five versts along and dreamed of wonderful

the road. As we were expect- rescues ! We took up a posi-

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. 77.

27

tion to the south of the village,
where a hill gave us good
observation, and from there we
kept the Huns at bay for many
hours. We allowed them to
reach the village, and then
popped up from behind houses
and other cover, and drove
them off. These tactics were
very successful, and we killed
quite a number. "S'monoclem"
noticed a courtyard full as he
passed through the street. He
stopped at once and reversed,
and met them all in the gate-
way at point-blank range, and
did great execution. Later he
got a bullet through the arm,
but was able to carry on.
Enemy reinforcements arrived
and got a footing in the south-
western edge of the village
with machine-guns, which they
mounted in houses. We sent
a message to the Corps Com-
mander stating that we could
hold on, and with infantry
reinforcements could recapture
the lost portion of the village.
The General replied that he
had no infantry on whom he
could depend, but urged us to
hold on. About 4.30 the Ger-
mans endeavoured to advance
from Darakoov to Kamiloovka,
but having advanced so far
ahead of their artillery, we
were easily able to hold them,
and though many attempts
were made, they were all re-
pulsed with heavy loss. One
solitary field-gun was brought
up to clear the enemy machine-
guns from their new positions,
and it was taken so close under
cover of our oars that we act-
ually witnessed the rather
unusual sight of a duel be-
tween enemy machine-gunners

and the Russian artillerists, as
they are called. The houses
were destroyed, and what oc-
cupants escaped came under
the fire of our machine-guns.
About six o'clock the position
remained as it had been two
hours previously the enemy
in part possession of the vil-
lage, but unable to occupy the
whole. An hour later a Rus-
sian battalion took up a posi-
tion about 1500 yards from
the enemy, and our cars re-
mained between them and the
enemy for the night,

The next day the O.C. re-
ported to the Staff, who had
moved back to Lyaskootse and
found the whole Staff de-
jected and suffering from the
very severe strain to which
they had been subjected during
the last few days. The Corps
Commander told us that of his
four divisions two refused to
move. He begged us to do all
we could to hinder the advance,
though he knew sooner or later
the enemy artillery would drive
us back. Then he wept a
most moving sight. He was
a fine soldier and a nice man.
On arriving at the cars we
found everything had been
quiet, but very shortly after
the enemy began to advance in
waves through the standing
corn. In the distance we could
distinctly see mounted Staff
officers spying out the land
and making their plans for a
further advance. As soon as
the enemy advance commenced
the Russian troops on the right
of the road left their hastily
dug trenches and ran off.
During the night we had got
up an armoured car with a

28

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. //.

[Jan.

small gun mounted, and tak-
ing it close to the village we
pounded away at the newly
chosen machine-gun positions,
while the light oars ran into
the village, getting behind the
advancing Huns. The advance
was stopped, but in this scrap
several men had been wounded,
necessitating fresh dispositions
of crews. The Huns decided
that we were a nuisance to
them, so they dropped their
ideas of an advance and began
shelling the road very heavily
and fairly accurately. Our
C.O. was walking up to the
oars when a shell fell at his
feet, but fortunately it was a
dud. He finished the journey
on a reserve armoured oar, but
a shell put this oar out of action
before he reached his destina-
tion. Then came the news
that the enemy, unable to
advance on Kamiloovka by
means of frontal attacks, was
trying to envelop the village
and the road behind, We could
not go across country, as
some rain had fallen during
the night, so we stuck to
the road, ignoring shell fire
and maintaining a steady fire
every time the enemy attempted
to move. So far the Russian
battalion on the left of the
road had fought well, but it
began to waver under shell fire
from three sides. The soldiers
left their trenches, then went
back, only to get up again
and run for it. Caught by a
veritable storm of shrapnel,
they were wiped out almost to
a man a terrible sight.

Left alone, the fighting be-
came very hard. Through
some unknown reason pos-

sibly a shell fragment the
Bolls Boyoe caught fire and its
occupants had to bundle out
in the road. Seeing them,
machine-guns were turned on
the car by the enemy ; but the
crew lying on the road were
able to extinguish tlie fire, and
the driver got on board some-
how, started his engine, and
drove the car out of action,
the remainder of the crew
clinging to the outside. Almost
directly afterwards a shell went
clean through another ar-
moured car, wounding the
officer in charge, as well as the
gunner and driver. The second
gunner was untouched. The
driver, though he fainted twice,
was able to drive them all
safely out of action. The
village was now on fire, and
the road was seriously threat-
ened, being shelled for seven
versts behind us. One of our
officers having been sent to the
Staff, found the bridge across
the road destroyed, so taking a
motor-cycle he got through on
that, only to have his bike
smashed to pieces in another
wild stampede. He had to
walk, standing a fair chance of
getting captured, but after a
tramp of eight and a half
hours he reached Buohach in
time to board the last car leav-
ing the place. Eventually we
received an order from the
Staff that as the withdrawal
was effected further resistance
was useless, and we were to
retire at once. Curiously
enough, whilst we were firing
our last belt off, a shell burst
under the oar commanded by
the Slon (Elephant) and blew
the engine clean up in the air

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. 17.

29

without touching a man. All
the guns, &o,, were taken
away. The Slon had done
great execution, getting off
30,000 rounds that day.

Without further incident we
journeyed back to Buohach,
only to learn that another
panic, more serious than the
previous ones, had just taken
place. Fortunately the Wild
Division from the Caucasus had
arrived there, and they man-
aged to keep a certain amount
of order. That night orders
reached us that a retirement
was contemplated during the
night to the line of the river
Sereth, which the Russian Staff
thought could be held easily,
so we were told to fall back on
Chertkov and camp for the
night. Armoured oars are
not very suitable for night
operations, and though we
travelled a good deal at night
we rarely did any fighting
in the dark. Also the rapid-
ity of the retreat gave us
no chance of learning much
about the country, and the
total ignorance of the Staff
of the enemy's whereabouts
necessitated our feeling our
way. We reached Chertkov
about ten o'clock, and camped
close to the road. We were
very tired, the ceaseless rum-
ble of carts and waggons did
not trouble us much, and we
managed to get in a few hours'
well-earned rest. Early the
next morning we went to
Chertkov and reported to the
Staff. We had changed our
Corps, as our late Corps was
no longer operating along
chaussfa roads. Our one and
only line of retreat lay along

the road running from Chert-
kov to Husiatyu, thence to
Proskurov and Kiev, hence
the change. There being no
immediate orders for us, a few
of us went to the hotel of the
town which was quite a nice
little place and had a good
breakfast of coffee, omelette,
and rolls. The landlady was
a thorough Austrian, but she
treated us well. Aeroplanes
flew over the town, and why
they never attempted to bomb
the retreating Russians, or use
their machine-guns on them,
I could never imagine. We
ordered a bath at the hotel,
and while it was being pre-
pared went and got shaved
and shampooed, for we were
beastly dirty, and then we set
out to buy a few luxuries. At
both shops we visited the shop-
keepers spoke English. One
of them, quite a young man,
said he hoped the Austrians
would not take Chertkov. Be-
fore the war, he told us, he
had been too young for mili-
tary service, but now he was
eligible. We went back to the
hotel and found the bath pre-
pared by an over-dressed boy
of thirteen, who smoked a
large rank cigar with a non-
chalant air. There was only
one bath, so S'monoolem and
I shared it, and it was easily
the best bath I have ever had.
We were wallowing in it to
our heart's content when a
message came that we were
required at the Staff at once.
In due ooure we got there, and
were then told the news.

Apparently the Russians had
retreated across the Sereth in
one spot near Trembovla with-

30

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. 17.

[Jan,

out attempting to destroy the
bridges, and of course the enemy
calmly followed them. A good
Finnish division had been de-
spatched up there and were
holding them, and our cars
were needed at once. It was
roughly forty-five miles from
where we were, and we had to
be there in two hours, which,
considering the congested state
of the roads, was wellnigh im-
possible. Still we went for
our lives, with Klaxons going,
and emulating the tactics of a
" tank " pushed aside all ob-
stacles, and were only ten
minutes late. We found the
Chief of the Division on a hill
just behind his front line, and
told him we had come up for a
scrap. To our disgust he was
unable to use us, as some Belgian
armoured oars were attached
to him, and he had more of
these than he really required.
They had done splendid work
too. This division was fighting
well, and though many of the
enemy had crossed the river,
only a few had been able to
establish themselves there. We
were ordered to stand by until
dusk, when we left and settled
for the night at Kopyozincze
you can pronounce it how you
like. C.O. had to go into
Chertkov, but owing to some
little accident, caused by trying
once again to emulate the tac-
tics of a "tank," his lights got
outed, and he had to sleep in
his car on the roadside and go
on next morning. During the
night there had been appalling
disorder in Chertkov. Practi-
cally every shop in the place
had been looted. The steel
shop doors and window shut-
ters had been wrenched open

and the places entirely wrecked.
In the roadway were heaps of
books, gramophones, and rec-
ords, articles of clothing, and
all manner of things.

Meanwhile at Kopyozincze we
had settled down for the night,
and waited about till the C.O.
returned. About ten o'clock
next morning (July 26th) we
were watching the dreary pro-
cession pass us when we spotted
the Count and his hospital
among the crowd. He at once
came up to us and thanked us,
telling us that owing to our
oars having held up the Huns
at Darakoov, he and his hospital
had been just able to retreat in
time. Needless to say we were
very popular with the ladies.
We were all very glad to meet
once again, for we had been
good friends and had been
worried on their account.
Shortly after we met the
General of the Corps with whom
we had done so well, and re-
fusing to listen to the fact that
we had been transferred to an-
other corps, he at once sent us off
into action. Evidently during
the night the enemy had effected
many crossings of the Sereth,
and was advancing down the
road from Tarnopol to Chert-
kov. This also was a magnifi-
cent road, but from our point
of view the country was none
too good. Huge forests ap-
proached the road on either
side, and while they doubtless
had their good points, it would
have been an easy matter to
have felled trees behind us.
We turned off the road to the
left and following the tracks
entered the village of Kobelov-
loki, taking German cavalry
by surprise. The enemy's ad-

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. //.

31

vanoe was becoming more
cautious, and this was the first
occasion we had encountered
cavalry. We cleared the vil-
lage, and going beyond it
drove off several other cavalry
patrols with severe losses to
them. We were then recalled
and despatched to another spot
farther down, where help was
badly needed. Unfortunately,
it was necessary to cross a small
stream, and during the retreat
the light bridge had been badly
broken. Though we worked
hard to repair it we could do
nothing, and had to retire to
Kopyozinoze. It was about
9 P.M. when we reported to
the General, who thanked us
warmly for our work. He had
received instructions from the
Army to hand us over to the
corps on his left, so this time
we had to say good-bye for
good.

On going back through the
village we found looting going
on everywhere. The infantry
being in full flight, meant to
take away all they could, and
ransacked house after house,
taking all. They visited a
house immediately opposite us
about twenty of them and
began to file out with carpets,
articles of clothing, ornaments,
&o. Some of these they did
not like when they got them
outside, so they calmly threw
them in the street. We could
stand it no longer, and "Ted"
was the first in. Seizing man
after man he threw them out,
whilst " S'monoolem " smote
them hard with a huge ash
stick he was in the habit of
carrying. We all rushed over
and joined in, and for a time
things looked ugly. Many of

the Russian soldiers were
stunned and out about the
head, but we didn't care.
The situation was saved by
" S'monoolem," who in a
wonderful speech appealed to
the soldiers to behave as
Russians. This had the desired
effect, and the looting ceased.

Again we flitted by moon-
light this time bound for
Husiatyu, the frontier town.
On the road we passed a rather
ghastly sight, for nailed to a
tree we saw the body of a man
with a huge notice over his
head. We got out to see what
it was, and found it was the
body of a " provocateur " who
had started a panic. He was
killed by the Cossacks, and his
body nailed up there with a
notice in Russian and German
as a warning to others. We
halted by the roadside about
eleven o'clock, and tried to
sleep, but it was much too cold.
I spent the whole night walking
about, my teeth rattling like
castanets. Next morning quite
early we reached Husiatyu.
How strange it was. Barely
two months had elapsed since
we passed through the station
in a special train loaded with
oars the carriages labelled
"Lemberg vid Buohach," and
now what a difference. The
state of our oars by this time
was terrible, and only two
armoured oars were really fit
for action. These remained at
Husiatyu and had a brush with
the enemy late in the afternoon.
Next day they patrolled the
road in front of Husiatyu and
were the last to cross the bridge
over the river dividing Austrian
Husiatyu from Russian Husi-
atyu, which was blown up

32

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. 77.

[Jan.

behind them. They did not get
much fighting, however, for the
enemy advance was getting
more and more cautious, and
no doubt he was as tired as
we were. We fell back to
Khootkovtse, about 16 versts
from the frontier along the
Proskurov road, and by the
evening of July 29 nearly all
our oars had been patched up
ready for action again.

Next morning these oars were
sent to Ahhovtse 3 versts from
the frontier. The enemy had
crossed the river and was trying
to eject the Russians from their
trenches. The Russians, who
were fighting on their own
territory, were putting up a
better show and hoped to be
able to hold on. The crossing
of the river was undertaken by
a division of Turks and a
division of Austrians, both of
which had been filled up with
vodka beforehand, as we learned
from prisoners. They fought
like fiends, but suffered very
heavy losses. The oars were
in action many times during
the day, "Wallie" doing par-
ticularly good work in the
town of Husiatyu. Towards
evening the artillery began to
oome up and things got de-
cidedly warm. In the morning
we stood by for the enemy's
next move. With the exception
of a few battalions across the
river, both sides were entrenched
the one in Austrian Husiatyu
and the other in Russian
Husiatyu, with a distance of
about 1200 yards between.
During the night the enemy
had got up a good deal of
artillery,inoluding four-inch and
six-inch howitzers, whilst the

Russians had nothing but field-
guns, having sent their heavy
guns farther back. Shortly
after ten o'clock the enemy at-
tempted to attack the Russian
trenches, whilst under cover of
the guns supports crossed the
river. Our oars were rushed
in, and at once a heavy barrage
was put across the road and
behind the Russian trenches.
One car was soon outed, but
the others got through, though
they were only just able to
discern the enemy through the
smoke and dust. The road was
badly out up in addition. A
steady fire was maintained on
the enemy, who eventually
withdrew with severe losses,
though the supports had been
enabled to cross the river in
the meantime. The remainder
of the day was intensely hot
and very quiet, and as we sat
on the road little disturbed us.
I remember how upset one dear
old lady was because we cut
some branches off her trees to
shield our cars better from
aerial observation. We were
polite but firm, and took more
branches. About noon the
enemy took a dislike to the
Church in the Russian village,
and so amused himself with a
little target practice. Out of
six shots fired big stuff they
were too four were direct hits,
and the Church was soon in
ruins, in company with such
famous buildings as Rheims
Cathedral and the old Cloth
Hall of Ypres. How these Ger-
man swine love destruction.

At six in the evening it was
decided to drive the Germans
across the river by means of
a counter-attack, in which our

1918.]

With the Armoured Cars in Galicia. II.

33

oars and an armoured train
were to participate. An hour's
artillery preparation was to
precede the attack, and the
oars were to leave the village
at 7.55 to give encouragement
to the infantry going over the
top at eight o'clock. The
bombardment commenced, and
Fritz answered not a word.
The minutes passed, and at
7.50 we started up our engines
and emptied our oars of all un-
necessary impedimenta, for this
was the real thing again. At
five minutes to eight we dashed
off for the front line, but no
sooner had we shown our noses
over the hill than a terrific fire
was put on the road and the
Russian trenehes. The troops
in the trenches a Siberian
regiment led by their gallant
colonel, went over the top and
advanced under this fire, and
in face of a murderous machine-
gun fire, with magnificent cour-
age. The " Slon " gat through
the barrage, though how he
did it he doesn't remember, and
made for the enemy trenches.
He pumped lead into them for
some minutes till a piece of
shell blew the end off his
machine-gun, and then he re-
tired. His oar had four shell-
holes in it when he returned.
The armoured train had done
good work, but the artillery
was too feeble, and the attack
failed. The losses OH the Rus-
sian side had been awful.
Early next morning the enemy
was driven across the river,
and both sides commenoed to
entrench and sit tight. Thus
on August 3 ended the retreat
from Galicia.

Recriminations are, of course,
VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII.

useless. The Revolution may
have been necessary. I sup-
pose it was, but with it came
the advent of the political
agitator, who alone is respon-
sible for the present deplor-
able state of the Russian army.
Without morale or discipline
an army ceases to exist, and
during the last days of July
and the commencement of
August I was reluctantly com-
pelled to admit that the mag-
nificent Russian army no
longer existed, but in its place
was merely an armed rabble.
Before I finish I must relate
one scene I witnessed just
after the retreat had been
stopped. Going to Proskurov,
I passed a number of soldiers,
probably two thousand, ad-
vancing in extended order
across country, but away from
the front to be Irish. Man-
oeuvres, I thought, and forgot
it, till a mile down the road I
met an armoured oar (Russian)
and some Cossacks, and farther
back a line of infantry roughly
entrenched, facing in my direc-
tion, and then two batteries of
guns. I was curious, so I in-
quired what was going on, and
was informed that a regiment
of Guards having murdered
their colonel and their bat-
talion commanders, and refused
to go into the trenches, the
others had been sent up to
" persuade " them. A battle
was eventually fought, and the
mutineers surrendered, their
leaders being arrested. I don't
suppose this kind of thing often
happens. Thus the retreat was
finished, though many of us
expected Proskurov and even
Kieff to fall.

34

THE BKAIN OF THE GUNS.

BY ANTHONY PENN.

I. THE AEEIVAL OF THE "NEW IDEA,"

A GREY oar stood, with
throbbing engine, outside the
tiny house of the Cure, then
serving as the headquarters
of a Heavy Artillery Group,
officially known as K 32. Out
from the door came a laughing
subaltern, smiling the smile
which only the possession of
a leave-ticket gives, and loaded
with bulky packages. He
jumped into the car, stowed
away his parcels, and spoke
to the driver. "Eight then,
Williams, the station, and as
hard as you like. I've only
ten minutes."

Just then he saw at the
window the face of the Ad-
jutant, pale and wide-eyed,
as he bent over the mass of
papers on the table, writing
orders, answering the tele-
phone, and sucking an unlit
cigarette. "Cheerio, old bean,"
shouted the leave-man, "don't
overwork." The Adjutant
looked up, disappeared, and
a moment later bounded from
the door and leapt at the oar.
" Here, Maddook, listen to
this," he shouted. "A con-
founded message just in from
Corps H.Q. that a circus is
arriving in three days to
assist in raids, and," consult-
ing a paper in his hand, "'O.C.
K 32 will arrange suitable
positions and furnish all neces-
sary material for effective con-
cealment.' "

The Adjutant paused in his
breathless reading to let the
words sink in; then he broke
out again: "And you, you
lucky Leavite, going off just
now and leaving me with no
Orderly Officer, a Colonel who's
new to the job, a Vet. who
can't tell a gun from a sack
of oats, and a Doc. who knows
as much about artillery as a
General about the trenches.
What the devil what in the

name of Oh, confound

it, what's to be done?" The
O.O. laughed. " Well, I don't
stay," he said, " even if it
means losing the war. I'm
sorry, old man, and all that;
but that little lady I was
telling you about last night
no, I mean the other one
that I've the big photo of
she's expecting me, and so is
London. Get somebody from
one of your batteries till the
stunt's over. Good luck, old
man, see you choose a better
one than last time. Cheerio !
Now, Williams, it's hell-for-
leather if I'm to get that
train." His merry laughter
was drowned by the roaring
of the engine as the car
swung away, climbed on to
the pavd centre of the
road, and headed down the
poplar - lined route to the
station.

The Adjutant turned, his
brows knit with thought, and

1918.]

The Brain of the Cruns.

35

plunged (it is the only word)
back to his table in the office.
The telephone rang. He
snatched off the receiver and
spoke rapidly, the cigarette
still hanging from his lips.
" Yes, hullo, yes, this is K 32.
Yes oh, good - morning, sir.
Yes, your O.O. 3 of to-day's
date received. Acknowledg-
ment coming by wire, sir."
Just then the door from the
mess opened, and a large
and rubicund colonel strolled
leisurely in, smoking his after-
breakfast cigarette.

The Adjutant looked up.
"Good -morning, sir," he jerked
out as he listened at the
'phone. Then again, "Hullo,
yes, still on, sir"; and to the
Colonel, "Brigade Major speak-
ing, sir. Hullo, yes, sir, I think
we've enough material for four
battery positions. I'll try to
get more from the Sappers.
There's an Operation Order
for you, sir, on the table there.
Hullo, very good, sir; it must
be got at once. No, beside
that cigar - box, sir, to your
left. What's that, sir? Yes,
sir, very good. 'Morning, sir."
He finished his dual conversa-
tion and hung up the receiver.
Then, as he seized a message
form and started scribbling,
he snatched it off again and
shouted " Message " into the
'phone. A moment later an
orderly entered and saluted.
The Adjutant finished, tore
the message off the pad,
handed it to the orderly, and
was back in his papers before
the door had closed.

"Ah, Lee," said the Colonel,
" another stunt coming off.
We'll be pretty hard worked,

I expect." The ghost of a
smile flitted grimly across the
Adjutant's face as he answered,
" Yes, sir. Just going te 'phone
Northern Siege, that's the
newest of the four batteries
in the Group, to send an
Orderly Officer. They're the
only people that can spare
one." He spoke into the
'phone again, "O.C., Northern
Siege," then lit another cigar-
ette, and showed the Colonel
exactly where to find the
matches, ash-tray, cigarettes,
and messages. As the tele-
phone tinkled he dashed back
to his table and picked off
the receiver.

A self-satisfied voice came
over the 'phone. "Hullo, is
that you, Lee ? Good - morn-
ing. You were ringing me,

I think, about some "

"That O.C. Northern Siege?"
cut in the Adjutant. " 'Morn-
ing, sir. Adjutant K 32
speaking. Will you send an
officer here to do duty as
Orderly Officer while Maddock
is on leave. Knowledge of in-
telligence work and routine.
To be here by " he glanced
at the leather-cased clock over
the stove "by 1.30 P.M. to-
day. Very sorry, sir, if it
inconveniences you. No, sir,
the other batteries are more
short-handed than you. Can't
help that, I'm afraid. 1.30
P.M. 'Morning, sir."

The Adjutant turned to the
O.C., who by this time had
got his eigar lit and was lean-
ing back smiling contentedly
over his wife's letter. "Shall
I write out the orders, sir, for
this new stunt?" he asked.
" Ah, yes, Lee, certainly," an-

36

The Brain of the Gum.

[Jan.

swered the Colonel without
looking up. " Then oan I have
that Corps order when you're
finished? Thank you, sir."

The Adjutant lifted a bulky
mass of papers on to his table
and oommenoed searching in it
for that grain of sense amongst
the ohaff of official redundances
which rumour says is always
to be found in H.Q, documents.
He found it, reached for his
pencil and memo -book, and
began to write.

Silence absolute fell on the
room, broken only by the rustle
of turning leaves as each page
was covered by the swift pencil,
and the scratch of a match as
a cigarette was lit, smoked
through, thrown away, and
another lit. And as the hours
passed by the pile of close-
written sheets grew larger and
the heap of cigarette-ends in
the tin box bigger. On and
on without ceasing. On and
on ...

I*

Within an hour of the Adju-
tant's message being received
at the Northern Siege Battery
a limousine Daimler, daubed in
fantastic patterns with splashes
of paint to assist concealment,
glided from its hiding-place in
a ruined barn and bumped
slowly down the stony track
on to the main Divisional read.
Here, with a clever driver and
despite the traffic, the oar
changed into top and was soon
rolling swiftly along towards
Group Headquarters, carrying
within it the deputy Orderly
Officer.

He was just about medium
size, this sub., with a face in
which whimsical and fantastic

humour blended with determin-
ation ; his eyes, at one moment
keen and merry as when bend-
ing towards another pair of
eyes over a shaded table in a
luxurious restaurant in Town,
then changing to the thought-
ful, earnest eyes of the student,
and merging into the soft and
imaginative gaze of the dreamer
his eyes, then, were the most
notable feature of an otherwise
plain face. But at this moment
his face was sparkling with the
pleasure of facing a new ex-
perience as he lowered the win-
dows and lay back to let the
keen wind blow round him.

Past columns of dirty, sing-
ing men and speeding, top-
heavy lorries, through a half-
ruined village where the few
remaining inhabitants drove a
prosperous trade by retailing
" vang-blong" and chocolate
to "les Anglais" in tottering
" estaminets," swiftly past the
cross-roads where the ground
was pitted with shell-holes, and
an ominous notice conveyed
the needless warning, " Do not
loiter here," past all that makes
up life behind the Front sped
the oar, till it drew up at Group
H.Q. in a little village, and the
Orderly Officer alighted.

The Adjutant rose to meet
him as he entered the office.
" From Northern Siege, aren't
you? Splendid. Feeling fit?
That's good. Lots of work for
you here. You oan hang your
hat and coat behind the door
for the present. I see your
kit's coming in. Now I'll
show you everything. Your

name, by the way, is " he

paused.

The Orderly Officer, think-

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

37

ing it was time he got a chance
to speak, started calmly

"Oh, my name's Lane. I

was thinking " but that

was as far as he got.

The Adjutant out in, " Lane,
right. Mine's Lee. Now, if
you're ready, I'll show you
your work." He led Lane to
where, on a sloping table, rested
a large-scale map, covered with
red dots and stuck with several
pins, from which blaek thread
stretched over eelluloid degree
arcs.

" This is the Flash Map, used
to spot enemy batteries firing.
These pins are the Main O.P.'s, 1
one on Hill 59, two on Steen-
voort Hill, and one up north
on Elsberg. When either of
them observes an enemy gun-
flash, they send in its bearing,
and you stretch the thread over
the arc to see which of the red
dots, representing batteries, is
crossed. If you're not sure,
wait until you get another bear-
ing from somewhere else and
get an intersection, then call
up the battery which covers
that zone and order twenty or
thirty rounds for that target.
Enter on those tables fixed on
the wall there. You find out
the area allotted to each of our
batteries from that coloured
map on the easel there.

"Then there are 'Zone Calls'
from 'planes," went on the Ad-
jutant's steady voice. "The
batteries receive those on their
own wireless, but you ring up
the battery whose zone the
target is in find that from the
diagram by the window there
and make sure the message

has been received, Wretched
nuisance these Zone Calls:
flight merchants kick up hell
if you don't answer quick when
a 'plane spots a Boohe gun
firing. N.K., sent before the
pin-point of the locality, means
'gun firing'; A.O., * troops
moving ' ; and Z.Z., the general
call, means anything, usually
nothing. 'Plane sends that for
amusement when he's fed up
and wants to see some shooting.
Zone Calls are entered on this
paper here."

The Adjutant led Lane
across the room to a shelf
covered with cardboard folios.
"Then you look after indents,
in this folio here. Know all
about that sort of thing, I
s'pose? See that a battery
doesn't get a thing twice, or
too much, else we'll get
slanged by the Corps Sapper.
Halve what they ask for
before you send it on to the
Sapper's Dump. In your
spare time you look after
communications and billets,
also arrange about Courts-
Martial and Spy Reports.
From the Intelligence Report
that comes in from the Corps
eaoh night here's yesterday's,
for instance you copy the
most important things into
this book here: positions of
enemy dug-outs, dumps, head-
quarters, and that sort of
thing. Then from the Hostile
Activity Report you mark off
eaoh day with a cross each
battery on this list here that's
been observed active, so you
can see at a glance which
are doing the most work.

1 Observation Posts.

38

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan.

Keep this chart here of
known enemy gun positions
up to date. They're known
as Alpha Targets, and each
battery has a numbered list
of them. Those are all just
things to do in your off-
moments from the usual
routine. Sort of side-shows,
you know."

When the Adjutant paused,
the Orderly Officer, whose
smile had been broadening
at every mention of "off-
moments " and " spare time,"
laughed just a trifle sarcastic-
ally. "That's all, is it?" he
said. He checked himself as
he was about to add various
flippant remarks about medi-
cally examining the General,
and seeing that the Brigade
Major changed his flannels
every week. What he did
say and he could not quite
keep a note of sarcasm out
of his voice was, " Not
much to do really, is
there?"

The Adjutant, like all
men of intense action and
little reflection, vaguely sus-
pected some "leg-pulling," and,
slightly (he knew not why)
resenting the tone, replied:
"Don't know about that.
Probably you'll have enough
to do."

"Really?" smiled Lane.

And the Adjutant, feeling
himself getting out of his
depth, turned to a more
definite topic. " Come in for
tea now," he said. "Colonel
Foljambe, this is our new
officer Mr Lane. I'll show
you the routine part of the
work after tea,"

As the new Orderly Officer
consumed his meal in the little
mess - room, whose bare walls
were adorned, as befits all such
places, with risqu6 examples
of tlie art of Kirohner and,
as befits a gunner mess, with
many and various maps, he
felt far from comfortable. He
was the mark of every eye,
and each time he looked up
found at least one pair of eyes
on him ranging from the
choleric but kindly Irish eyes
of the Colonel to the gimlet
grey of the Adjutant and the
watery regard of the sallow
Orderly. The telephone rang
sharply in the adjoining office.

"That's your 'phone, Lane,"
said the Adjutant. " Come
back and finish your tea when
you're through."

As he left the room, the
Mess, as might be expected,
fell to discussing him. Each
of the four members gave
their opinion shortly and to
the point.

"Pleasant boy," said the
Colonel. "Doesn't seem to
like work," said the Adjutant.
" Too particular about things ;
keeps his hands as neat as
a girl's," drawled the burly
Canadian vet. " Sharp tongue,
too," murmured the Irish doc.

"What did you say his
name was, Lee? I didn't
quite catch it," said the
Colonel, after a moment of
silence.

"Lane, sir," answered the
Adjutant.

"Lane, is it? Seem to
know his face. Lane ah,
I have it. He was under

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

39

me at Winchester. A fine
boy, too. I'll tell you a story
about him.

"We had 60 -pounders in
those days clumsy monsters,
with eight big 'hairies' each
team to pull them. One day
I came on Lane's horse in the
lines, and found it very badly
kicked on the off -fore. He
wouldn't give me any explana-
tion, except that one of the
team - horses had kicked it
when he was riding past, and
of course I rated the lad a
bit for his carelessness. It
wasn't till a long time after
that I heard the real truth
of the matter from another
sub. in his battery. One day,
on manoeuvre, the teams were
halted in a steep field with a
deep ditch at the bottom.
Most of the drivers had dis-
mounted, but in one team
the wheel -driver stayed up.
Something started the horses.
They hadn't, I suppose, any
one holding their heads, so
off they bolted down the
slope. The gun, of course,
rolling so close on their heels,
made them even more terri-
fied. The driver shouted. Lane,
who was standing some dis-
tance away beside his horse,
saw what would happen if
the team plunged into the
ditch. He vaulted into his
saddle no easy feat and
thundered hell-for-leather after
the runaways.

"He drew level with the
leaders, risking a fatal kick
from their great hoofs. Then,
just as his horse stumbled
kicked, of course, as he had
asked for he gathered the

hanging reins and swung him-
self into the leader's saddle.
A most inconceivable thing,
perfectly marvellous.

" But he was only at the be-
ginning even then. The ditch
was only fifty yards away, and
he had to stop or turn eight
great beasts and five tons of
metal in that distance. But
he did it Lord knows how.
He pulled on the leaders' off
rein and lashed the neck of
the off-leader until he began
to edge them round, and just
managed, at the very edge
of the ditch, to turn them
parallel, nearly tipping the gun
into the ditch with the swirl
of his turn. Then he dropped
the whip and just lay back on
the reins until the team slowed
down and finally stopped.

" I saw the place some
months afterwards. The wheel
marks were two feet from the
edge of the ditch. And never
a word he said about it when
I slanged him for the kick his
horse had got."

There was silence when the
Colonel finished. Each of them
had worked among horses.
Each realised what a dare-
devil act of reckless pluck
and skilful horsemanship had
been so simply narrated. And,
above all, each appreciated the
reticence which the hero of the
occasion had afterwards shown.
In that silence Lane entered
into the class of " good chaps,"
and his treatment at headquar-
ters was settled for all time
in the minds of the listeners.

"Not so bad," muttered the
Adjutant to himself (it was a

40

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan.

habit he had) late that night.
"Coming to ask me if there
was anything he oould help

with before turning in. Bit
funny till you know him, but
well, not so bad."

II. BILLETS.

The Orderly Officer snored
peacefully. Opposite him in
the bare room the Doo. did
likewise, and in the corner by
the broken window the Vet.
trumpeted. Suddenly the door
rattled, and, after some noisy
twisting of the crazy handle,
opened to admit two orderlies,
one bearing a tray with three
cups of tea, the other carrying
a large can of hot water.

"Seven o'clock, gentlemen,"
announced the first one. Then,
louder, " Seven o'clock, gentle-
men." Followed a respectful
shake of each recumbent figure,
while the other orderly filled
three canvas basins and three
enamel mugs. As he was pre-
paring to depart, the sleepers
awoke.

"Braggs, you lazy devil,"
roared the Vet,, never in his
best temper at 7 A.M., "have
you lit that stove? How
many times have I told you
to light it and put the shaving
water on top to keep warm?
Got no sense at all in your
durn lazy carcase ? Get it lit"
This stove, a oast-iron inven-
tion which burned oil, reeked
like Avernus and gave out the
modicum of heat, was a pet of
the Vet.'s. To omit to light it,
as the orderly usually did, was
to arouse righteous and voluble
wrath in the breast of a man
whose stubborn beard yielded
only to the hottest of water.

His roars finally roused Lane,

who with a glance at his watch
leapt from the bed and began
hurriedly dressing. "Just my
luck," he said, plying a shaving
brush diligently, " and I had
a bet on with Lee that I'd be
down before him."

" And is that any reason for
your sprinklin' soap over me
tunic?" Even through the
half -drunken drawl peculiar to
men only partially awake, the
accent of the Emerald Isle
spoke plainly.

"Sorry, Kavanagh. Forgot
you didn't like soap. They
don't in Ireland, do they ? At
least not Orangemen."

This was too much for Hiber-
nian blood. "Look here, my
lad, less of that there. I'm
not an Orangeman, and I'm
not for ye sayin' the same.
I'll be for gettin' up te ye if
ya'll say it."

"Never mind, old man,"
Lane tried to speak sooth-
ingly through his lather. "I
never can get these religions
of yours settled." Then after
a period of silent dressing,
he spoke, with his hand
on the door-knob. "Suppose
I'll see you two in about an
hour."

" Get out," roared the chorus
of two.

" Just what I'm doing."
They heard th door close and
turned over again for " another
five minutes." It is one of the
advantages of being a Doo. or

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

41

a Vet. that early rising is not
included in the day's work.

As the Orderly Officer en-
tered the office, the Adjutant
lifted a tired head and spoke,
weary but vigorous. "Morn-
ing, Lane. I did beat you. Two
hours down. Listen to this."

" More batteries coming in ?
I suppose you know that the
Canadian 8 -inch arrived last
night. I sat up for them after
the Colonel sent you to bed.
About 3 ao emma they arrived,
and I got everything fixed up.
Going to be some dirty work
what?"

"Rather. Glad you met
them. Corps says Westshire
Siege are coming to-night.
No billets for them. No posi-
tion. You're to find both."

" Thanks, anything else ?
Wait a bit. What about this
place ? " Lane led the Adjutant
to the large-scale map on the
easel. "There, see, was a 60-
pounder position before the line
came back. It's pretty far up,
but good cover. I had a look
at it yesterday when I was
joy-riding after tea."

"Did you? Good man.
That'll do them. I remember
the place. Beside 'Glasgow
Cathedral'?"

"That's the place. Shall I
note it ? "

"Yes. Where for billets?"

" Um. Have to sleep under
the trails, I think. It's not
very cold weather."

"Oh, be serious, curse it.
You'd be funny in your grave,
Lane. There's no Town Major
to give out billets in Steen-
voort. That Highland Divi-
sion's taken most of them. Go

dewn at 8.30 and find some-
thing. Take what you can, be
back by 11, and we'll inform
G.O.C. Division that they're
ours before his Brigade comes
out of the line to-night and
wants them." He turned to
the 'phone, picked off the re-
ceiver, and snapped, "Car
wanted 8.30. Faeing North."
"By the way, Lee," the
O.O. looked up from a road
map as he spoke, " it'll be
some fun crossing the ridge
above 'Fusilier Farm.' Not a
stick of cover, and they d a
morning 'hate' there now-
adays. I'd better camouflage
the oar and disguise myself as
a soldier. You know what
Kipling says

' Old soldiers never die,
They only fade away-ee.' "

"Shut up, you ass. I'm
busy. You ought to be too."

"Sorry." Lane bent over
his work again, smiling to
himself. " Poor old Adjie," he
thought, "he's getting too
much work to do, and it's bad
for his nerves. Wish he'd let
me do more, but he's too
frightened of the Brigade
Major old 'red-tab.'"

This last was true. The
Brigade Major was a "red-
tab," or a G.S.O. as he is
officially called. Corps Heavy
Artillery H,Q. are real " Staff,"
the red- tab, soft job kind, but
Group H.Q., where all the
slaving work is done, labour
on unthanked, with no red-
tabs or extra pay, but merely
a more or less comfortable
billet as recompense.

Sounds of dishes brought
the O.O. to his feet. With a

42

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan,

muttered prayer of thanks as
he saw he'd have time to eat
something before going out, he
vanished into the mess.

As he was finishing, the
Colonel, who never merely " en-
tered," strolled in. "Good
morning, Lane. You seem in
a hurry."

"Yes, sir. Going down to
Steenvoort for billets at 8.30,"
replied Lane, between gulps.

"But you can't get any
there. There's no Town Major.
You'll have to apply to G.O.C.
Division."

" And get some old cowshed,"
thought Lane. Aloud he said,
" I think not, sir. I'll manage
to wangle something."

" Well, it's not quite correct,
but "

" Lee said I might, sir."

The name was a charm.
Colonel Foljambe sighed relief.
"Ah, then that's all right.
There's the oar now, I think."

Lane hurried out and took
his place beside the driver.
The oar slipped down the road,
through the little village with
its churchyard filled with white
crosses, out into the open.

A turn to the east, that is
towards the Boohe, through
another half-ruined village and
up the winding hill. Ominous
signs of recent shelling were all
around, in the smouldering re-
mains of huts and the jagged
fingers of a white tree-stump.
A swerve past a shell-hole
awoke Lane from a reverie of
brown eyes and wind-blown
hair.

"Williams," he said, "they'll
see us crossing the ridge for
about 200 yards. You've got
to do it quick."

"Very good, sir," replied the
driver, pushing down the ac-
celerator. The car swung into
view on the crest. Then above
the roar of the engine rose the
whistle of a shell. Louder
louder then crash behind the
flying car. Both men ducked
as a shower of dirt fell about
them, and splinters droned in
the air. Then out of sight
again below the skyline, and
two sighs of relief from the
occupants of the car. At the
foot of the slope the car ran
between two rows of black huts
which vaguely reminded Lane
of fishermen's huts seen on
East Coast holidays. He
stopped to ask the way of a
tall Highlander who was scrap-
ing mud from what was once a
kilt,

"Be ye for gaein' doon intae
Stanewort, sir? I'm feared
ye'll no' manage. The Boohe
is shellin' ahint the wee kirk
somethin' awfu'."

" Oh, I'll cut over the fields
then. That's the way to Bri-
gade H.Q.?"

"Aye, sir. Gin' ye follow
the wee burn ye'll nae gang far
oot."

"Eight, thanks. Williams,
turn the oar and wait for
me."

Lane followed the " Jock's "
directions and came to a little
group of ramshackle buildings,
with walls of wood and flat-
tened tin from biscuit-boxes,
and a roof of rusty corrugated
iron. At the door of one
labelled "O.C. Brigade" he
knocked and stepped within.
Here the severity of outside
appearance was softened by
various devices for comfort.

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

43

Grey blankets furnished wall-
paper, on whioh were pinned
numerous pictures from the
illustrated weeklies. Kirohner
prints of rather "demi-mon-
daine" ladies smiled at the
youthful innocence of Harrison
Fisher's girls. Strips of blan-
ket covered the floor and the
table, at whioh sat a dapper
Colonel, smoking a calabash
pipe and warming his free
hand at the red-hot stove,

"Good-morning, sir," said
Lane, saluting.

"'Morning, my boy; any-
thing I can do for you?"

"Well, sir, I'm looking for
billets for a battery coming
into position near here. I'm
from K32 Heavy Group."

"Ah, yes. You know, I
suppose, that there's no Town
Major in the village. You'll
have to apply to G.O.C. Divi-
sion for anything you want."

"Oh, of course, sir. Cer-
tainly. But if you could tell
me of anywhere suitable it
would save time when we
apply, "adding under his breath,
" when we apply."

"Let me see, now. Yes.
There's rather a nice place
called the Bed Chateau. It's
in the trees about two hundred
yards south of the church.
There are some Sappers in it
at present, but they're going
off this evening. That might
do you. Are you in a hurry ?
Well, I won't keep you. Of
course, you'll apply to G.O.C.
We must do things the right
way."

"Of course we must, sir.
We'd never be where we are if
we didn't. Good - morning,
sir." And Lane departed,

leaving the Colonel to wonder
whether there was just a hint
f sarcasm in his words.

"South of the church,"
thought Lane to himself.
"That's probably the 'wee kirk'
they were 'shellin' somethin'
awfuV By Jove, that was a
ripping picture above the stove.
Bather like the flapper I know
in Town. And the photo on
the table. Wonder who she
was? His wife may be. Looked
a bit too good for that. He's
a funny beggar. 'Apply to
G.O.C.' Bather, I should just
think we will, and get an
answer in a oouple of months
that ' this application must be
made in triplicate. Please
oomplete and forward imme-
diately.' Truly ours is a won-
derful army. Like that bit of
Kipling's about

'The General 'ad "produced a great

effect,"
The General "'ad the country cleared"

almost ;

The General '"ad no reason to expect,"
And the Boers 'ad us bloomin' well on
toast 1"'

And so, musing, h came to
the Bed Chateau, whioh was
rather a fanciful name for a
wooden pavilion, blackened and
rotting, once the summer resi-
dence of some Belgian grandee.
An officer was superintending
a squad of sappers laboriously
making and stacking "knife-
rests," the name given, from
their shape, to arrangements
of beams and barbed wire, to
be taken that night to the
front line to fill up a gap in
the wire. The Sapper Sub.,
seeing him approach, came
over to him.

"Well, old man, how goes

44

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan,

it ? Have a cigarette ? 'Fraid
you don't remember me. Think
of a box at the Gaiety and
supper at the Trianon, off Soho
Square, with about five of the
girls. Remember now ? Can't
say I remember much after
supper, except waking next
morning alone in a strange
hotel, with a devil of a head.
You were with old ' Dolly*
Gray of the Gordons."

" Yes," Lane smiled reminis-
cently. "I remember now.
We had to dump you in some
hotel or other. We lest the
man you were with, and hadn't
the vaguest noticn where you
were staying. You wouldn't
let ua go until you had kissed
us * Good-night,' and I nearly
missed the * milk -train' baek
to Aldershot. Some night."

"Bather. Well, what do
you want now ? I can't intro-
duce you to any girls, if that's
what you're after."

" No, it's not girls, it's billets.
You're going out f here to-
night, and I want this place
for a battery coming in. The
old boy at Brigade H.Q.
wanted me to apply to the
General. You know what
that means."

"Should think I do. You
just write out a notice that it's
reserved for those gunners of
yours, and I'll stick it on the
door before we go. Come and
have a look at the place. This
way, and don't try that middle
step. I've been on my head
over it twice."

He led Lane up a few
wooden steps, carefully avoid-
ing the middle one, which was
even more rotted than the
others, on to the verandah

round the house, and through
a doorway into the interior.
The hall, once neatly tiled, was
now a litter of broken tiles
and rubble : sandbags but-
tressed the walls, and loop-
holed windows showed that it
was intended as a fort by the
Germans before our cavalry
swept them past it three years
ago. Seme of the rooms were
in good preservation, the wide
glass windows neatly boarded
up, and rows of bedding and
equipment lining the walls.
In the kitchen a fire burned
cheerfully in the rusty, broken
stove, and at a wooden table
sat a group of telephonists.

"This is rather a good
thing, to," said the Sapper,
leading Lane down a flight of
stone stairs, "their wine-cellar
here. Must have held quite
a lot. I wish they'd left
some of it; but the people
here before us only found one
dusty bottle covered up with
rubbish. You can retire grace-
fully in here if they start shell-
ing you."

"Splendid idea. It's quite
a ready-made dug-out. Some
one's kindly strengthened it
with these pit-props. Wasn't
you, was it ? No, they look
as if they'd been up some
time."

As the two emerged into
the garden again a signaller
hurried up with a message.
The Sapper read it and
whistled ruefully. " Good
Lord, this is from an O.C.
Company coming out of the
line to-night. Wants this
billet. Well, it's this way.
My corporal has just wired
the accommodation. When

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

45

O.C. gets it, he'll apply to
the General, who will pass
it on to the Corps Artillery,
I suppose, if they want billets
in this region."

" Yes, he'll consult them, at
any rate."

" Right; it'll take about
half an hour for those wires
to get passed through. You'll
have to get back to your H.Q.,
and have that wire through
inside thirty minutes. How
long will it take you to get
baok ? You've got a oar ? "

" Yes, across on the ether
road. Take about twenty
minutes by the * Fusilier
Farm' way. The car's about
five minutes' walk away."

" * Fusilier Farm ' way ?
That's no good. They're giv-
ing all that bit hell. I was
just having a look when you
came in. It's getting worse
every minute. Look there."
He pointed to where on the
skyline stood a battered ruin,
past which ran the road. All
about it were white puffs of
shrapnel, woolly black balls of
Time H.E., and heavy spread-
ing clouds from "Crumps."

"Doesn't look awfully in-
viting," said Lane, wishing
he oould find any excuse at
all for going the longer and
safer way round. "Mustn't
let this beggar think I've got
* wind-up,' " he thought, "even
if I have. Better take the oar
myself and let Williams walk,
or I'll drive it myself. The
beggar would probably run
the thing into a ditch if one
came near. Might do ib my-
self, of course, but I'd feel
safer than with him driving."
He added to the Sapper:

" Have to be getting along
now, old man. Perhaps it
will have cooled off a bit
before we cross the ridge.
Come up to our place in
Neuoapelle, you know any
time you can. Cheer-oh."

"Chin, chin, old thing. I
hope you pull this off all right.
I'll be up some night to talk
ever old times."

Lane hurried over the fields
to where the car stood. The
driver, seeing him coming,
started up the engine and sat
down in the wheel seat.

"No, Williams," said Lane,
as he came up. " I'm driving.
I know it's against orders, but
don't you worry. We're
going baok by that road over
there. See where the ' woolly-
bear s' are bursting. That's
the place. Are you right ?
Well, sit tight, and keep
your head down, if you want
it safe."

Lane let in the clutch with
a jerk, changed gear with a
screech that almost brought
tears to the driver's eyes, and
swung the oar along the road.
Bumping, swaying, rolling, it
mounted the hill. Then, as
it reached the "danger zone"
of the crest, Lane slipped to
the floor, jammed the acceler-
ator down, and clung to the
j erking wheel . ' c Crash ' ' j us t
above them. "Crash whirr-r"
the splintered glass out their
faces, Still they kept on. In
and out of a shell-hole that
almost jerked the wheel from
Lane's hand, through the fly-
ing steel and the ear-splitting
detonations, over the crest
safety.

Lane resumed his seat. " Bit

46

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan.

hot, Williams?" He tried to
keep the tell-tale quiver out
of his voice. "You'll need a
new wind-screen, I'm afraid."
But the driver didn't answer.
Even when the oar reached
H.Q., his knees still shook so
much that he could hardly
stand.

"I've got 'em, Lee. The
1 Bed Chateau.' Had the devil

of a time, but I managed.
You'll wire G.O.C. that we've
taken the place ? "

" Which way did you come
back ? "

" * Fusilier Farm. 1 "

The Adjutant swore softly.
When he saw the car, and
heard the story from the
driver, he swore again, to
express his admiration. And
not so softly,

III. S.O.S.

"Yes, my lad," said the Vet.,
looking over at a picture on
the wall of the mess, "that's
the one the Cure's wife didn't
like."

"Is it?" said the Orderly
Officer as he helped himself
to more Belgian beer out of
the enamelled jug. "I don't
admire her taste. That's rather
a fine girl : her pose, to say
nothing of what she wears, is
a bit unconventional, but the
shading of the whole thing is
wonderful."

The Adjutant joined in the
discussion over the lunch table.
It was only at meal-times that
he forsook his rapid talk and
serious manner. The picture
in question, a rather fine brown
print of a lady, clad more or
less in a leopard skin, clasping
her hands over her breast in
ecstatic joy, was hung so that
she appeared to be lying back,
looking up into some one's face
probably.

" The Cure's wife doesn't lik
that, sir." The Adjutant speke
to the Colonel. " Sh came in
one night after you'd all gone
to bed and talked to me about

'wicked pictures from Paris.'
But wait a minute, I'll put it
right."

He rose, unpinned the pic-
ture, and refixed it so as to
bring the lady to an upright
position.

"That's a lot better now.
Don't you think so, sir?"

" Yes, Lee, it does look more
respectable."

"Lee, you're a vandal, a
Goth, in fact a perfect Hun.
Don't yeu see you've destroyed
all the art the poor thing ever
had by making her stand in
that uncomfortable and un-
natural poiition. Fancy the
Adjutant of K 32 Heavy Artil-
lery Group" Lane rolled the
words solemnly "allowing
himself to be influenced by the
chatter of an old woman."

" But this is her house," ob-
jected Lee. " Surely she has
a right to keep it respectable.
After all, she is the wife of the
Cure."

"I don't care, Lee. I don't
care. You've allowed yourself
to be prejudiced against a work
of art, Such a big man as you
are, too."

1918.]

The Brain of the China.

47

"Lane, don't talk so durn
much. Pass along those pota-
toes sliok. I've work to do
this afternoon." The Vet.
spoke roughly.

"Work to do, Vet.?" Lane
said banteringly. "No won-
der you want lots f * mealies.'
One does have to fill up a bit
before unaooustomed toil. But
as I was saying, Art is an
excuse for everything, even for
allowing a lady like that to
watoh us eat. I'll just tell
you a little story "

" No, you won't." Lee glanced
at his watoh and resumed his
" business " voice. " You'll come
along into the office and get
on with the work. You'll ex-
cuse us, sir. Come on, Lane."

The two rose and passed
through the high, moulded,
white doors into the little
front room where was " the
office," the brain of the guns
around.

" Once more into the breach,
dear friends," murmured the
Orderly Officer.

"What's that you say?"
snapped Lee.

"Nothing," said Lane, "ex-
cept that I have a lot to do."

"Bight, you have. Here's a
list of the new S.O.S. targets
in from the Corps. They're
to reach our batteries before
three. I've made a copy for
ourselves. There it is. Just
check as I read," and the Ad-
jutant began swiftly rattling
off strings of names and fig-
ures, such as "Two gums
on Trench Junction K 16 o
2428, one on * too emma ' em-
placement K 16 b 5630, one
on Company H.Q. K 15 d
8620," and on, "S.O.S. North-

ern, Westshire Siege Battery
has one gun n Trench Junc-
tion L 19 b 2585, three guns
on cross-roads L 14 c 7545,
Northern Siege two guns on
' too emma ' emplacements L
19 d 2530 to 2565, two guns
n hostile battery, or section,
E 5 c 9040 "... and more and
more he read until all the dif-
ferent S.O.S. targets allotted
to each gun of every battery
in the group, for the various
S.O.S. Signals, were examined
and checked. Then a call
through the 'phone for a de-
spatch-rider, the roar of a
motor -bicycle dying away in
the distance, and the papers
were on their way to the
batteries who must work out
" angles from aiming point,"
elevation, and concentration or
distribution for each target,
as well as have pickets out
to hold the lamps for night
firing, before darkness fell.

The office at Group H.Q.
settled down again to silence.
Work, much work, was the
order of the day. New bat-
teries had come into the group
to assist in a series of raids,
and each had to be tended
and watched over, urged on or
commended, as their perform-
ance warranted. For even the
smallest raid, contrary to the
belief of " the man in the
street," requires a vast amount
of careful thought and detailed
preparation. Counter -battery
work (known to batteries and
Staffs as C.B.W.) has to be
earried out energetically, dumps
and dug-outs destroyed, and
tangles of wire out, if any-
thing in the nature of a large
raid is to take place. And all

48

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan.

instructions oome down to the
batteries through the Group,
whose thankless task is to act
as "go-between" for Corps
H.Q. and the actual guns. All
of which explains the frown
on the Adjutant's brow as he
wrote hard in his memo-book,
and the silent earnestness of
the Orderly Officer, deep in
reports, maps, and statistics.
And along with all the extra
work must go on the daily
routine of organised trench
warfare on "quiet days."

Scene, a front-line trench.
Time, about midnight. Tem-
perature, somewhat below
zero. A light snowstorm fall-
ing. Noises heard "off."

"The 'minnies' again, sir.
About fifty yards off. They
out our wire here last night.
We've a party out at it now,
sir." The orderly sergeant
diagnosed the noise for his
officer, doing rounds.

"Right, sergeant. Seem to
be thinking of a raid here.
Warn all Lewis and look-out
men for special vigilance."

"Very good, sir."

The crashes continued. Post
after post was destroyed by
the enormous trench mortar
bombs. The parapet was
blown in, wire destroyed, and
men buried in the upheavals.
Stretcher - bearers moved sil-
ently over the slippery trench-
boards, working parties la-
boured to repair the breaches.
Grim and tense, the officer
stood by a sentry who peered
into the driving snow, heed-
less of the earth - shaking
detonations around.

"If they drop a barrage,

we're for it, sergeant a raid.
S.O.S. rockets in rder?"

"Yessir. Tested this morn-
ing, sir."

Then above the whirr and
crash of the "minnies" rose
the whistle of "whizz-bangs,"
the shells falling on the front
line, the support line, in front,
behind, everywhere.

"Hell!" snapped the officer,
and slithering, stumbling, fall-
ing, he rushed along to the
rocket apparatus. Good still
intact. He touched the trig-
ger. Up into the misty dark-
ness soared a rocket, and burst
into the most urgent of all
calls, two red lights and a
green one "S.O.S."

It was seen at once. An
orderly at the Company H.Q.
dug - out shouted " S.O.S,,"
and back went the call along
the wire to Battalion H.Q.,
then to Division, then
Corps.

A dozen " look-out " men at
a dozen field batteries shouted
the urgent call for help. Down
in the front line the officer
timed the arrival of the first
shell in answer to his call.
Thirty seconds is the limit.
" Five ten fifteen when
are they coming ? twenty
A long whistle from
behind, over his head, and
crash crash four shells burst
over the German trench.
" Twenty - four. Oh, g@od
boys! That's the stuff!"

The Brigade Major at Corps
H.Q. turned to his map as he
replaced the receiver. "H 6
o and d," he muttered. " H 6,
that's second scheme. North-
ern." He turned to the 'phone

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

49

again. "K 32 Group!" he
called. "Urgent. Hello, hello,
K32! S.O.S. Northern. Check
back. Eight. Carry on."

Lane, his work finished, was
sitting up with his feet on the
little stove, dreaming, and try-
ing to keep awake withal,
when the B.M.'s call galvan-
ised him into action. He
jerked off the receiver and
shouted, "Hello! Give me
an officer of Northern Siege,
Westshire Siege, 3rd Canadian
Heavy, 20th Canadian Siege,
llth Lowland Siege, and 98th
Reserve Heavy. In any order.
Urgent." Still keeping the
receiver to his ear, he turned
to the other 'phone. "Ad-
jutant's bedroom. Hello ! that
you, Lee? S.O.S. Northern
just through. I'm sending it
on to our batteries."

A voice in the other re-
ceiver" Through to Westshire
Siege, sir."

"Hullo!" called Lane.
"Westshire Siege? Officer
speaking ? S.O.S. Northern.
Check. Correct. Report when
fired first round." And to
each battery in the group
passed the message, while out
into the cold and snow
tumbled the officer on duty,
and the gun crews, hauling
the tarpaulins off the guns,
lighting the picket lamps,
loading, then "Fire!" and
away into the mist sped the
first helping shell from the
" heavies."

The door of the office crashed
open, and Lee bounded in.
"Right, Lane; I'll take over.
Any reported yet?"
"Not yet."
VOL. CCIIL NO. MCCXXVII.

Yes hullo! Very good."
He turned to Lane from the
'phone. " Westshire firing.
Take down time. Now, off
to bed you. This is your
third night on. Get off; I'll
finish this."

And so reluctantly Lane
turned to the door and passed
upstairs to bed, still anxious
to hear the outcome of the
event, but not daring to dis-
obey that voice of flint.

Over breakfast in the morn-
ing the events of the previous
night were discussed, or rather
explained shortly and allowed
to pass.

"There was an S.O.S. or
something, last night, wasn't
there, Lee ? I was wakened
by some awful din. I sup-
pose it was all right. I didn't
bother to come downstairs, as
I imagined I heard you go
down. Can I trouble you for
the marmalade, Vet. ? Thank
you. Was it a Boche raid?"
The affable colonel always
took things easy.

" Yes, sir. Somewhere
North. Don't know exact
locality," replied the Adjutant.

"Calgary Trench and Pine
Farm," put in Lane, between
mouthfuls of toast.

"Ah, yes. I suppose we
repulsed it without much
difficulty."

"We did, sir. The rockets
went up early on, and our
barrage was laid on just as
they left their trenches. They
got * windy,' and couldn't find
their way back."

" I was speaking to old
'Snorty's' I mean to the
B.M.'s Orderly Officer, this
D

50

The Brain of the Guns.

[Jan.

morning, sir," went on Lane.
"We had them out in the
open, and they couldn't find
the gap in their wire to get
back, what with the snow-
storm and * wind-up.' Gave
them hell, he said. They were
running about trying to find
their way home with our bar-
rage playing on them. We lost
some, too, at the beginning."

The Colonel finished his
meal, reached for his letters,
and lit a cigarette. "Well,
well. Poor chaps, they must
have got it badly. Terrible
business, this. Terrible busi-
ness. Ah, I see my wife says
she has had a day with the
beagles in old Donegal. Could do
with that ourselves. Eh, Lee?"

" Bather, sir. Must be better
weather than here."

" Lee," Lane's voice was
low and excited as he looked
up from the paper, "here's a
summons against Estelle Doree
of the Gaiety. Driving with an
officer without a petrol licence.
That's the girl Maddock has
umpteen photos of upstairs.
I expect it was him."

" You bet your life on it,"
drawled the Vet.

And so the talk passed away
from the doings of the night.
Only "a raid repulsed," only
half a hundred grey forms
stretched out stiff in the
snow, only a score of empty
hearts in England. Just
an incident, forgotten in a
week except in those be-
reaved homes, just another
example of what " Ubique "
means.

(To be concluded.)

1918.]

51

THE GOLD COAST.

BY SIB HUGH CLIFFORD, K.C.M.G.

THE Gold Coast being situ-
ated in tropical West Africa, it
is inevitable, I suppose, that
the first comment, verbal or
mental, that a mention of its
name will impel the average
reader to make, will take the
form of some banality on the
subject of its "deadly climate."
Any adequate discussion of this
question would fill a volume
of the size and majesty of
' Maga's ' recent centenary
number, and nothing of the
sort can, of course, be at-
tempted here. It is necessary,
however, to get rid of this
West African bromide, as a
preliminary to the examination
of matters which are at once
more interesting, more import-
ant, and less notorious.

Writing, then, not as the
scribes, but as one having au-
thority, seeing that I have
served in the tropics more or
less continuously since Sep-
tember 1883, and have ac-
quired a personal knowledge
of conditions in Malaya, Java,
Borneo, Cochin China, Kam-
bodia, Ceylon, Trinidad, Brit-
ish Guiana, Barbados, and
West Africa, I have no hesita-
tion in describing the "deadly
climate" theory as a myth.
The fact is that the climatic
conditions of the Gold Coast
very closely resemble those
which prevail in the southern
islands of the West Indies, and
are considerably less hot and
less humid than those which

are ordinarily met with in
tropical Asia. The monumen-
tal reputation for unhealthi-
ness which men have reared
up for West Africa, and which,
even now, is very slowly crum-
bling into ruins, has for its
foundation the ignorance which
prevailed till quite recently
concerning the causation of
certain tropical diseases by
mosquito-bites, the deplorably
inappropriate methods of liv-
ing which in the past were
adopted by Europeans resident
on the Coast, and last, but not
least, by the failure or refusal
to recognise the fact that the
common, ordinary " Yellow
Jack " of the West Indies and
South America is present here
in an endemic form, Since
the beginning of the twentieth
century the ignorance above
referred to has been dispelled,
and medical science almost
yearly places within the reach
of white men in the tropics
new and more efficient means
of combating insect - borne
disease. Simultaneously, Euro-
peans in West Africa have
begun to acquire the art, so
highly developed by their fel-
lows in other parts of the
tropics, of making themselves
comfortable, of housing them-
selves decently, of providing
rational means of recreation
and exercise, and of assimi-
lating their environment as
nearly as possible to that of a
small and rather dull country

52

The Gold Coast.

[Jan.

town at home. On the other
hand, endemio yellow fever,
it must be owned, is about
as unpleasant a bedfellow as
even adversity could select ;
but so, Heaven knows, is
Asiatic cholera, which is more
or less endemio in so many
parts of the East. Yellow
fever, too, which is spread by
the bite of a mosquito, like the
cholera germ that lurks in
unboiled water, can be avoided,
given some vigilance and a
modicum of luck ; and in any
event, a disease that can be
fought with and gradually
stamped out by means of pre-
ventive measures is a thing
with which humanity can
compete, whereas a " deadly
climate " is a calamity that
mankind can only grin and
bear.

My tribute having been thus
duly paid to the West African
Climatic Bogie a fetish which
still numbers many devoted,
and even fanatical, worshippers
in this land of fetishism, we
are free to pass on to other
subjects, concerning which, it
is probable, the stay-at-home
Englishman (if such an one
still exist in these days of
Expeditionary Forces) com-
monly possesses less dangerous
knowledge.

The Gold Coast and its
Dependencies Ashanti and
the Northern Territories is a
piece of territory roughly
oblong in shape, lying along
the coast of the Gulf of Guinea
for a distance of something
over 230 miles, and extending
about twice as far inland. It
covers an area of approxi-
mately 80,000 square miles, of

which about two -fifths, or
rather more, is under forest,
the remainder being compara-
tively open " orchard " or
grass country. The native
population numbers in all
about a million and a half, of
whom three-quarters inhabit
the Colony proper and Ashanti,
the remaining fourth being
distributed throughout the
scattered and straggling vil-
lages which are spattered up
and down the more or less
open country of the Northern
Territories. The people of the
Colony and Ashanti the
dwellers in the forest area and
its fringes are men of negro
stock, among whom the dom-
inant race is the Akan or Twi-
speaking folk. To this breed
the pakka Ashanti, the Fantis,
and the Akan tribes of the
Colony alike belong. In the
south-eastern part of the
Colony, from Accra to the
borders of the erstwhile Ger-
man colony of Togoland, an-
other race the Ewe-speaking
people is met with. Neither
the Twi-speakers nor the Ewe-
speakers are aborigines in the
true sense of that term, the
former having trekked 'south-
ward from the interior into
the forest belt, the latter hav-
ing come originally from the
valley of the Niger. The
natives of the Northern Terri-
tories, who until quite recently
were the helpless victims of
persistent Arab slave-raids, are
ethnologioally different from
the negroes farther south ; but
though many of them show
distinct traces of the inter-
mixture of Arab blood, their
culture is of the most primitive
type. On the other hand, they

1918,]

The Gold Coast.

53

make excellent military mate-
rial, as they have proved since
August 1914, by many splendid
acts of courage, devotion, and
heroism, which have caused
their outlandish tribal names
to bedeck on numerous occa-
sions the pages of the ' London
Gazette.'

These facts and statistics,
I fear, are almost as wearisome
as the eternal squabble about
the West African "climate"
itself, but they are neeessary
for an understanding of what
is to follow.

A good many of the races of
western Europe the Portu-
guese, the Swedes, the Dutch,
the Danes, the British, even
the Huns have had settle-
ments, one time or another, on
the sea-shores of the Gold Coast,
and as early as the reign of
Charles II. the purity of the
precious metal brought from
this part of Guinea gave it a
premium of a shilling in the
pound, and conferred a name
upon a now obsolete, but still
much quoted, British coin. I
often wonder whether members
of the medical profession, law-
yers, and auctioneers ever
realise what a debt of grati-
tude they owe on this account
to this remote corner of the
Empire.

With the series of more or
less accidental incidents which
led to the disappearance and
elimination of the other
European elements I am not
here concerned. The reader, if
he be curious on the subject,
will find the story admirably
told in Dr Claridge's monu-
mental * History of the Gold
Coast.' It was not until 1900,

however, that the British began
seriously to extend their effec-
tive administration to Ashanti
and beyond, and up to that
time the frequent raids and the
constant menace to which the
tribes nearer the coast were
subjected by the Ashanti
Federation rendered social and
economical development a
matter of much difficulty.

It is to some of the peculiar
features of that development
that I propose in this article
to direct attention.

The West African negro has
often been reproached with his
failure to develop any high
form of civilisation. It has
been pointed out ad nauseam
that he has never sculped a
statue, painted a picture, pro-
duced a literature, or even in-
vented any mechanical contriv-
ance worthy of the name, all
of which is perfectly true.
Buckle, in his sweeping and
comfortable fashion, accounted
for this by what he described
as the "penury" to which
nature had " doomed " him, but
Buckle had apparently never
heard of the luxuriant forest
country in which the Twi-
speaking tribes have their home.
His explanation, therefore, fails
to fit the case, but I am none
the less disposed to agree with
him that nature, rather than
the negro of the Gold Coast, is
primarily to be blamed.

Some years ago a story
in the pages of * Maga ' re-
counted the apocryphal ad-
ventures of a traveller in South
America who was captured by
a tribe of ants, and was re-
duced to a condition of abject
submission by the threatening

54

The Gold Coast.

[Jan,

attentions of ant -ridden hor-
nets. This tale, in spite of the
oonvinoing fashion in which
it was told, seems fantasti-
cal enough, yet it is a sober
fact that the negro tribes
of the Gold Coast have been
subjected during the whole
course of their history to a not
dissimilar experience.

Recent scientific investi-
gation has shown that the mi-
crobe known to the learned as
Trypanosoma gambiense and
familiarly to the British sub-
altern as the Tryp which
causes sleeping - sickness in
human beings, and inconti-
nently destroys polo ponies, is
to be found in the blood of an
appreciable percentage of the
forest- dwelling negroes of West
Africa. The bulk of the popu-
lation is immune to the disease,
and epidemics of sleeping-sick-
ness are accordingly unknown
among them, though isolated
cases are of frequent occurrence.
The infection, however, is carried
by the tsetse fly, which is all
too common for comfort in
many parts of Africa ; and the
terrible ravages caused by the
outbreak in Uganda, which first
fooussed medical attention on
the disease, was due to the
passage of Stanley's caravan
from the western to the eastern
side of the continent. Many
of the natives who made that
adventurous journey have mil-
lions of Tryps lurking dormant
and innocuous in their blood.
In East Africa, though the tse-
tse fly abounded, they had till
then been a nuisance, not a
deadly peril. These insects now
feasted in joyous innocence upon
the new-comers from the West,
sucked millions of Tryp into

their systems, and thereafter,
by biting the local population,
started upon a career of
slaughter of almost unprece-
dented magnificence. That,
however, was East Africa's
funeral, and our concern is
with the West Coast.

Here the Tryp and the tsetse
fly have maintained their un-
holy alliance for unnumbered
generations, the immunity
from sleeping-sickness which
the natives have acquired is
itself a proof of the antiquity
of the combination; and the
restrictions which they have
jointly imposed upon human
development are mainly re-
sponsible, I think, for the
failure of the natives of West
Africa to evolve for themselves
any high standard of culture.

The whole question mainly
resolves itself into one of
transport. Though the Tryp
in some localities has proved
himself a formidable enemy
to mankind, he is much more
destructive of animal life,
especially of horses and cattle,
the members of the brute
creation upon which human
beings have principally relied
for aid in locomotion and in
the transportation of their
produce by land. The navi-
gable rivers of West Africa
are not numerous, having
regard to the vast extent of
the country, so they, at best,
could afford only local and
very partial relief; and the
dense forest, which spreads
inland for so many miles,
presented in any case a for-
midable barrier to the passage
of bulky goods. Now, in all
primitive communities, agri-
culture is the initial basis of

1918.]

wealth. Commerce is its off-
spring, and upon the accumu-
lation of wealth, the inter-
course with other races that
results from trade, and upon
the increased experience, the
widened outlook, the multi-
plied needs, and the stimulated
ambition which these things
engender, the progressive cul-
ture of a people very largely
depends.

The negroes of the West
African forest country, how-
ever, were effectually deprived
of all these incentives to de-
velopment. Though the land
is wonderfully fertile, they had
scant inducement to till it.
There is nothing to be gained
by cultivating crops that will
yield more than is required
for individual consumption un-
less the surplus can be dis-
posed of at a profit. In other
words, agriculture can only
lead to the accumulation of
wealth provided that it sup-
plies a foundation upon which
a commercial system can be
reared. The produce of the
soil, however, is at once low-
priced and bulky; and in
West Africa each community
found that the task of growing
its own foodstuffs was lighter
than that of attempting to
carry the fruit of their labour
to market. There were, of
course, a few specialised
branches of commerce in ex-
istence on the Gold Coast
from, comparatively speaking,
very early times. Thus salt,
which is among the primary
necessities of any tropical
people, was obtained from the
lagoons, and found its way
inland, being passed on from
tribe to tribe as an article of

The Gold Coast.

55

barter. The same was done
with salt fish; and the kola-
nuts of Ashanti, which re-
quired to be picked, not cul-
tivated, and the gold dust
washed from the banks of
streams, were annually trans-
ported into the interior by
caravans of pack asses or
ponies that came down to
the fringe of the forest coun-
try for the purpose, and were
under the charge of Arabs or
of natives who had come under
Arab influence.

This trade, however, was
negligible in volume, and was
not of a kind to produce much
effect upon the social develop-
ment of the forest dwellers.
It filtered in a leisurely
fashion through the country,
and brought the tribes that
engaged in it into contact
with none save its nearest
neighbours. It, therefore, did
not appreciably relieve the
isolation in which they lived;
it exposed the natives to no
new influences, infected them
with no new ideas ; and it left
them as it found them, small
independent communities, self-
supporting, self-contained, and
self - sufficing. Their culture,
accordingly, remained on a
par with that of the more
primitive hill tribes of tropi-
cal Asia. That is to say, they
provided themselves with food
by planting communal food
patches and by searching the
neighbouring jungle for snails
and other delicacies tempting
to the appetite ; they tapped
the self-sown palm-trees for
liquor, and expressed the oil
from their pericarps for edible
purposes; they panned for
gold, and fashioned therefrom

56 The Gold Coast. [Jan.

ornaments for their chiefs, and exist, for all land belonged to
to a minor extent for their the community, though the
womenkind ; they smelted iron members of a family were
and forged a few tools and recognised as having a cer-
weapons. Beyond these nar- tain right to the food -patch
row limits of human attain- which had been cultivated,
ment, however, they had and to the hut that had been
neither the opportunity nor erected by their joint labour,
the means to progress. From Even the heavy gold orna-
time to time parts of a com- ments, with which the persons
munity might overflow from of the chiefs were bedecked
the parent village and start upon state occasions, did not
a new hamlet elsewhere, but in any sense belong to the
the patriarchal spirit was men who wore them. They
strong among the people, and were the property of the
the allegiance which was owed "Stool" the traditional seat
to the tribal " Stool" or throne, of his ancestors and of those
and to the chief who was of the tribesmen, and his
the occupant, bound these off- connection with this mystic
shoots of the original stock piece of furniture conferred
together. Land for oultiva- upon him such sanctity and
tion, and adjoining forest authority as he possessed
areas for hunting and ex- qualities which were not re-
ploitation, were available in garded as being inherent in
plenty. There was room and the individual himself,
to spare for all, and it was It will thus be seen that
mainly when war broke out, there was no element in the
or when two or more tribes social circumstances of these
banded together for defence tribes of a kind that was in
or offence, that these com- any way calculated to bring
munities came into contact about change or improvement,
with even their nearest neigh- They were wedged into a
bours. Once in a while a secluded corner of the earth,
tribe, more energetic than its out off from their fellows, so
fellows, would start forth upon hampered by transport diffi-
a career of conquest, in the oulties that agricultural de-
course of which it would in- velopment on a commercial
fliot an immense amount of scale was denied to them, and
misery upon other commu- rendered by their environment
nities ; but these invasions so self - sufficing that inter-
brought with them no new course with other communities,
culture, and were detrimental, save in the way of raid or
not stimulating, to local civil- rapine, held for them no ad-
isation. vantages. As a direct out-
All these circumstances, come of these things, moreover,
moreover, inevitably tended they had been driven to evolve
to give individuality to the a system of paralysing State
tribe, not to the men who socialism, which suppressed in-
composed it. Personal pro- dividuality, put an end to
pertv could hardly be said to competition by depriving sue-

1918.]

The Gold Coast.

57

cess of its reward, exacted a
fair share of manual labour
from every member of the
tribe, and thereby made the
growth of a leisured or in-
tellectual class impossible. It
is difficult to conceive any set
of circumstances more nicely
calculated than these to wilt
the mental and inventive en-
ergies of man. In a State
where the entire adult popula-
tion could meet to discuss its
tribal affairs and in practice
did this at least once a year
there was scant need for a
written scrip for purposes of
record. In a land where each
community " kept itself to
itself" as much as possible,
there was even less use for
literary correspondence. Both
purposes were served quite
effectually by the "language
of the drums" that extra-
ordinary and elaborate system
of signalling by drum-beating
which, in the Gold Coast, con-
veys essential information to
all the people of a tribe in an
incredibly short space of time.
Here, by the way, is a highly
specialised art which the West
African has invented, and not
only invented, but rendered
almost perfect. That he con-
trived nothing of a more
literary character is due to
the fact that he had no need
for anything of the sort, and
necessity, as we know, is the
mother of invention. This ap-
plies with equal feroe to the
whole of his culture. It was
developed by him up to the
measure of his requirements,
and, lacking the stimulus of
extraneous influences, he had
no sort of incentive t carry
it up to higher standards.

Thus the negroes of West
Africa might, I think, have
gone on indefinitely living the
life which the circumstances
of their isolation and environ-
ment had combined to impose
upon them, without anything
in the nature of an internal
event occurring to rowel them
onward along the road of im-
provement or of social and
cultural development. To break
the smooth current of their
utilitarian conservatism, pro-
pulsion from without was
needed, and this disturb-
ing influence was eventually
brought to bear upon the
natives of West Africa by
the European trade - adven-
turers who arrived on the
Coas^ during the concluding
decaaes of the fifteenth
century.

The new-comers, however,
were interested, not in the
moral or material " up-lifting,"
as the Americans call it, of the
negro tribesmen, but in the
rapid acquisition of wealth ;
and provided that this latter
object was achieved, they were
content to allow the social and
cultural development of the
people to take care of itself.
The arrival of the white men,
moreover, did nothing to relax
the pressure which the tsetse
fly, aided by the Tryp, had so
long exerted upon local civilisa-
tion, and which had so much
to do with the shaping of the
unyielding mould in which it
had been oast. This is strik-
ingly illustrated by the char-
acter of the commerce which,
in the first instance, sprang up
between the white men and the
native population. It was at
first confined, almost exolus-

58

The Bold Coast.

[Jan.

ively, to gold and ivory, both
of which are articles of great
value and of little weight or
bulk. They were, therefore,
peculiarly suited to the pur-
poses of a people in whose
country head - carriage the
least efficient and the most
brutalising means of transport
that can be devised is alone
available. The next develop-
ment of trade between the
white men and the natives is
more significant still. The ex-
traordinary convenience of an
article of barter that could be
made to walk to market must
early have impressed itself upon
the mind of the practical and
labour-loathing African, and
must have caused the slave
trade to make to him a very
special appeal. Domestic slav-
ery, of course, had always ex-
isted, but an organised traffic
in human beings was new to the
West Coast. Africa is a con-
tinent of vast distances, of poor
natural means of communica-
tion, and over large areas the
tsetse fly has made vehicular
traffic or the use of pack ani-
mals impossible ; and to this, I
think, is to be attributed the
fact that commerce in slaves
has here been raised to the
level of a principal industry,
and has in its time assumed
proportions which are without
a parallel in any other part of
the habitable earth.

The ancient castle in which
I sit writing these lines, and
all its many counterparts up
and down the Coast, are monu-
ments of that shameful traffic
which to-day stand forth grimly
to mock the modern English-
man's boasted love of liberty
and justice for all men, and

to excuse and account for
the distrust and suspicion of
the white man that still lurks
in the heart of the aver-
age West African negro. Be-
neath my feet are the gloomy
dungeons, lighted only by fun-
nel-shaped loopholes bored in
the immensely thick walls, in
which, decade after decade, the
slaves were assembled and con-
fined until the time came for
them to exchange their horrors
for the unspeakable inferno of
the slaver's hold and the terrors
of a boundless ocean. Local
records and traditions have
many ill stories to relate of the
indecent scramble for the lion's
share of this ignoble traffic, in
which so many of the white
nations engaged with such
eagerness; and one British
governor, at least, committed
the incredible crime of surren-
dering half the refugees of a
friendly tribe, who had fled to
him for protection, to the tender
mercies of an Ashanti army, on
the condition that the remainder
were made over to him to sell
for what they would fetch.
Can it be wondered if, in lands
where such memories still
linger, many years of just and
sympathetic government will
yet be needed fully to convince
the native that the white man
is to-day animated by high
ideals, and that he is little
likely to act the part either of
the tyrant or of the knave?

It will be seen, therefore,
that the outside influence
which, at the long last, came
to West Africa and broke in
upon the isolation of its peoples,
was that of the European in
his most grasping and brutal-
ised mood. Thus, while it im-

The Gold Coast.

1918.]

parted a certain onward im-
petus to local civilisation, by
multiplying the requirements
of the natives, and by in-
creasing their material wealth,
its moral effects were not
elevating.

Gradually the public con-
science of the white nations
rebelled against the slave-trade,
and at last, and with infinite
difficulty, it was finally and
effectually suppressed mainly
by means of British sea-power.
It was not finally abolished by
law, however, until 1807, and
the illicit traffic had to be
stamped out for some years
after that date. At that time,
moreover, no other trade had
sprung up to take the place of
the commerce in slaves, and
for a period there was a strong
inclination, even in Great
Britain, to abandon settlements
that had ceased to be remuner-
ative, and a country whose
principal article of export was
now prohibited. Better coun-
sels, however, prevailed, and
though several of the smaller
nations f Europe withdrew
from the Coast, the British and
the Dutch still maintained
their forts as trading stations.

The headquarters of the
former were at Cape Coast, but
the interests of the white men
in West Africa continued to be
exclusively commercial ; and it
was not until 1830 that a
Governor was appointed who
was possessed of any breadth
of outlook, or who recognised
that the presence of English-
men in these primitive lands
involved the assumption of a
certain measure of responsi-
bility for the wellbeing of the
natives. This man was George

59

Maclean, the husband of the
poetess L.E.L., whose tragic
death in 1837 exposed him
to so mueh wholly unmerited
suspicion and calumny. His
memory is still held in affec-
tionate remembrance by the
people of the Gold Coast.

In those days the jurisdiction
of the white men ran only in
the immediate vicinity of their
forts. They had neither at-
tempted nor secured any do-
minion over the little Native
States by which they were
surrounded, and these existed
then, as they had existed in
the past and as they exist
to-day, as a number of self-
contained and independent
political entities, each of which
is governed by its elected Chief,
with the aid of his Councillors.
Maclean was the first European
to set up a court of justice in
the Gold Coast, and very
rapidly there spread among
the native population a rumour
at first clearly apocryphal
and incredible that here judg-
ment was given on the merits
of any submitted case, without
fear or favour, affection or ill-
will. Disbelief died hard, I
make no doubt; but presently
folk began to troop in from
the surrounding districts to
lay their disputes before this
oracular and incomprehensible
white man. That, one is glad
to remember, for in West
Africa the European record
holds all too much of a kind to
occasion shame, was the real
beginning of British rule upon
the Gold Coast. It would not
be easy in any part of the
Empire to find for it a more
honourable foundation- stone, or
one the laying of which was

60

The Gold Coast.

[Jan.

inspired by more altruistic
motives.

Up to the time that wit-
nessed the collapse of the slave-
trade, the social condition of
the natives, as has been already
noted, had undergone no ma-
terial change, except that a
demand for goods of European
manufacture had been created
among them. This need had
to be satisfied, and as slaves
were no longer marketable, the
negroes were compelled to ex-
ploit the natural wealth of
their forests for the purposes of
commerce. Palm - oil, palm-
kernels, or rubber were to be
obtained in most districts by
any one who possessed the
necessary energy to enter the
jungle in search of them, and
these articles were in demand
among the white traders. Trade
was thus shifted, for the first
time, from gold, ivory, and
human beings to forest pro-
duce; but though this was a
step in advance, it introduced
no new art, and accordingly
imparted no strong stimulus to
the cultural development of the
natives. The tribes of the
Coast region, and for some
eighty miles inland, lived, more-
over, under the perpetual
menace of Ashanti invasion;
and this, while it more or less
paralysed their racial progress,
caused these little Native
States to seek the protection
of the white men. Thus the
Gold Coast Colony of to-day,
rightly viewed, is not a terri-
tory which Great Britain has
conquered, annexed, or settled,
but a federation of small in-
dependent States, consolidated
by British influence, but brought
into being at the instance of

the people themselves, who
have voluntarily made certain
sacrifices of time-honoured but
indefensible tribal customs in
exchange for the protection of
His Majesty's Government.
Had they been abandoned by
Great Britain, as was so
strongly advocated early in
the nineteenth century, they
would, one and all, it is prob-
able, have been reduced to sub-
jection by the Ashantis. On
this occasion, however, the
"policy of scuttle" for once
did not prevail; but it was
not until 1900-1 that the
power of Ashanti was finally
crushed by native troops,
trained and led by British
officers an event that marked
a new era in the history of
the Gold Coast. Thereafter, for
the first time in all their age-
long history, there was afforded
to the people of this part of
West Africa a fair field and no
favour in the area of social
progress and development.

I would invite those who
hold pessimistic opinions con-
cerning the potential ability of
the West African negro to ad-
vance along the path of civilis-
ation, to consider the extra-
ordinary revolutions which
have been witnessed in the
Gold Coast of recent years,
and the fashion in which the
native population has availed
itself of the opportunity, so
long withheld, that has at
last been afforded to them.

I have said that the over-
throw of the Ashanti tyranny
by the force under the com-
mand of Sir James Willeooks,
and the reduction of that
troubled and trouble - produo-

1918.]

The Gold Coast.

61

ing laud to a state of law
and order, marked a new era
in the history of the Gold
Coast. Exactly ten years
earlier, however, another event
had occurred which, in my
estimation, is to be recog-
nised as even more epoch-
marking in its character.
This was the exportation from
the Gold Coast in 1891 of a
consignment of locally grown
cocoa, weighing 80 lb., and
valued at 4 sterling.

In almost any other part
of the world this would, at
best, have meant nothing more
remarkable than the tentative
beginnings of a new industry.
Given the past history of the
West African negroes, how-
ever, it here represented some-
thing much more important
and significant. It meant, in-
deed, nothing less than that a
great stride forward had been
locally made in the culture of the
people an advance comparable
to, and quite as far-reaching in
its effects as, that which marked
in its day the transition from
the Palaeolithic to the Neo-
lithic Age, or from the Age
of Stone to that of Metal.
It meant that, for the first
time in the history of West
Africa, the cultivation of a
permanent crop had been at-
tempted, and, moreover, that
the resulting fruits were being
used, not for local consump-
tion, but as an article of com-
merce. Any student of eth-
nology will realise how steep
a step on the road of human
progress is represented by an
advance such as this ; nor will
he withhold his tribute of ad-
miration from a people who
eagerly assimilated that which

to them was so wholly novel a
conception, who forthwith re-
cognised the promise it held
forth to them, and who seized
with avidity this, the first real
opportunity for social devel-
opment that had ever been
afforded to them or to their
forebears.

The extent to which the
people of the Gold Coast
availed themselves of this
chance, is best shown by the
following figures. In 1901, ten
years after the first consign-
ment had been shipped, and at
the moment when the Ashanti
despotism was being finally
crushed, the export of cocoa
had increased from 80 lb. to
960 tons, and its value from
4 to 42,827. That was a
substantial advance, seeing that
the people had to contend, as
of old, with appalling diffi-
culties of transport, and that
the shadow of hostile invasion
had not even then been com-
pletely removed. The next
decade, however, was one of
peace and development, and
the natives enjoyed a security
which had never before been
known in equal measure. A
beginning, too, had been made
in the direction of railway and
road construction for the pur-
pose of diminishing the crip-
pling difficulties of transport.
The Tryp and the tsetse, how-
ever, still held the field ; in the
absence of traction-animals no
vehicular traffic was possible,
except on the railway ; and an
appreciable proportion of the
total population squandered its
labour on the exhausting and
degrading work of head-car-
riage. Yet, in spite of all dis-
advantages, the new industry

62

The Gold Coast.

[Jan.

throve, and by 1911 the end
of a third deoade the export
of ooooa had risen from 960
to 35,261 tons, valued at
1,613,468. Towards the end
of that period, moreover, the
motor-lorry had made its ap-
pearanoe, and though the great
lumbering vehicles first intro-
duced reduced the local roads
to ruins, and quickly wore
themselves to scrap, a beast of
burden which could defy the
tsetse and the Tryp had at last
made its appearance in the
West African bush.

Then arose Mr Ferd of the
United States of America.
Those who remember his peace-
circus may, perhaps, be dis-
posed to poke fun at Mr Ford :
not so, however, the people of
the Gold Coast, who owe to
him an eternal debt of grati-
tude. He placed on the market
a very light and durable chassis,
that could be landed on our
shores at a cost of about 100,
and which, being constructed
of standardised parts, could
have its life prolonged almost
indefinitely by means of repairs
locally executed. This vehicle,
it was soon found, could run
not only over the few big high-
ways constructed by Govern-
ment, but over tracks which
the tribal communities could
make for themselves under the
supervision of their District
Commissioners; and thus, at
last, a practical and efficient
solution was applied to the
transport difficulties of the
country difficulties which, as
we have seen, had sufficed to
keep local civilisation and pro-
gress in chains for so many
centuries. In spite of the war,
the effect of this is to be marked

in the figures of 1916, the last
year of another half-decade of
progress. These showed that
the export of cocoa amounted
to 72,161 tons, and its value to
3,847,720 considerably more
than double the crop of 1911,
and more than a third of the
total cocoa -production of the
world. It must be added that
practically every pound was
grown by native cocoa-farmers,
aided only by such advice and
assistance as could be afforded
by an Agricultural Department
which the war had sadly de-
pleted of its European per-
sonnel.

I must now try, very briefly,
to indicate some of the princi-
pal features of the tremendous
social revolution which has
been witnessed in the Gold
Coast during the past five-and-
twenty years, and which has
resulted from the facts just
recorded.

At the beginning of that
period that is to say, in 1891
we have a native population
whose cultural development
has never progressed beyond
the stage of the planter of
temporary food-patches, and
the worker of self-sown jungle
produce. At its end in 1916,
after an earth-shaking war has
been raging for more than two
years we find these same
people engaged in a permanent
agricultural enterprise of the
first magnitude, and supplying
the world with one-third of the
ooooa that it annually con-
sumes. It is European sugges-
tion, it is true, that set their
feet at last upon the path of
innovation, but it was left to
the natives themselves to use

1918.]

The Gold Coast.

63

or to discard it. If a handful
of the moat energetic and en-
lightened among them had
determined upon the former
course, their decision would not
have been specially surprising,
though it entailed a departure
from the immemorial practices
of their people. In the Gold
Coast, however, the movement
has not been individual, or
even tribal. It has been uni-
versal throughout the Twi-
speaking States.

In 1891 the total value of
the exports of the Gold Coast,
which were produced by un-
assisted native labour I
exclude from this category, of
course, gold that is mined and
lumber which is extracted
under European management,
amounted to rather less
than 530,000. They consisted
mainly of palm-oil, palm ker-
nels, rubber, and other jungle
produce, including such things
as 30,000 monkey skins, priced
at a pound a piece. In 1916
the articles of export produced
by unassisted native enterprise
were valued at 4,240,000, and
of this handsome total cocoa
accounted for no less than
3,847,720. The more primi-
tive and outlandish objects
had vanished from the lists
monkeys, for instance, were
now having a quiet time of it ;
but these figures indicate that
the income of the native rural
population had been multiplied
by eight in the course of five-
and-twenty years. In actual
practice, of course, the change
in the financial position of the
population is even greater than
this would seem to imply.
Some individuals began plant-
ing cocoa sooner than others;

certain tribes took to the in-
dustry more quickly than their
neighbours; in some localities
the crops were specially pro-
ductive. The distribution of
the new wealth was not, there-
fore, uniform, and in many
parts of the country incomes
have been multiplied, not by
eight or ten, but by a hundred
or more; and in the Eastern
Province, which "got going"
first of all, family incomes of
one or two thousand pounds
per annum are to-day by no
means uncommon. Here and
there even larger fortunes have
been made, and the fact of such
big sums annually finding their
way into circulation has
greatly tended to stimulate
local prosperity.

The first, and perhaps the
most notable, effect which the
sudden rise of this industry has
had upon the native population,
is the alteration which it is
working in their notions con-
cerning real property. Theo-
retically, all land belongs to
the tribe, though, as we have
seen, the family which planted
a temporary food -patch was
regarded as having a certain
right to the fruits of its
collective labour. This was a
system which it was very
natural for a people to evolve
whose culture did not include
any save shifting cultivation.
The introduction of agriculture
of a permanent character was
to them, however, an extra-
ordinary revolution, entailing a
change not merely of degree,
but of kind. If the land be-
longed to the tribe, and the
fruits which labour wrung from
it to the tiller of it, when the
occupation by the latter ran

64

The Gold Coast.

[Jan.

into a long period of years,
instead of lasting only for a
season or so, what became of
the communal property in the
soil ? The Twi-speaking Native
States are governed on very
democratic principles, which
include the right of the people
to depose a chief if his personal
or public conduct does not meet
with their approval. The
position of the planter of a
cocoa-garden vis-a-vis the tribe
was a matter in which the
popular will supported the
individual, as against the com-
munity, for very soon the vast
majority of the tribesmen were
themselves the planters of cocoa-
gardens. Immemorial custom
might say one thing, but im-
mediate and personal interests
said another, and that in tones
that would take no denial.
Accordingly, though the theory
of the communal ownership of
all land stands as four-square
as ever, in practice the property
of the individual in his cocoa-
trees is fully recognised, and it
passes on his death to his
next of kin with the rest of his
personal effects. Thus, for the
first time in the history of these
people, the tribesman has be-
come possessed of interests
which are distinctively his own,
quite apart from those of the
community, and the seeds of
ambition, of competition, and
of the advance to better things
which these imply, have been
sown broadcast among the
native population.

Already the effects are to
be noted. The Twi-speaking
tribal system makes provision
for a Paramount Chief, who
is an elective monarch; the
Chiefs, Sub-Chiefs, Elders and

Councillors, who may be said
to represent the nobles; and
the "young men," who form
the Third Estate. In theory
this organisation is of a most
democratic character, the Para-
mount Chief and all his prin-
cipal subordinates being elected,
respectively, by the whole tribe,
or by certain sections of the
community. The choice of the
people, however, is restricted to
the members of one or more
families, the succession passing
through the female, not through
the male line. In actual prac-
tice, however, the selection of
a chief for the Paramount, or
for any subordinate, office has
usually been made by the
nobles, the consent of the Third
Estate being given more or less
as a matter of course, or being
even taken for granted. This
was natural enough in the old
days, for, as I have mentioned,
the entire political and social
system of these people tended
towards the suppression of
individuality. But to-day the
"young men" the term is
used to indicate their position
in the tribe, and bears no
reference at all to their age
may be, and often are, highly
successful cocoa-planters, and
possessed, as such, of great
wealth. Riches mean power
all the world over, but indi-
vidual affluence is as new a
thing in the Gold Coast as
permanent cultivation itself.
"Young men" of pre-eminent
social standing and of great
influence over their fellows are
a novel and startling feature
in local tribal polity, and the
democratic system, which pro-
vides for the legal deposition
of a chief at the dictates of

1918.]

The Gold Coabt.

65

the popular will, places in their
hands an extraordinarily strong
weapon of oifence. Of old such
peaceful and orderly revolutions
were of infrequent occurrence,
and the impulse which occa-
sioned them usually came from
the nobles. To-day they annu-
ally become more and more
common, and the initiators are
most often the " young men"
themselves, headed by the most
wealthy and intelligent mem-
bers of their class. This, it is
probable, is but the beginning
of a political transformation,
the effects of which upon the
tribes, and upon their system
of government, it is as yet too
early clearly to foresee,

There is another direction
in which the changed concep-
tions concerning the value of
real property, which have been
induced by the spread of cocoa-
cultivation, is operating upon
the tribes. Formerly, when
agriculture was confined to
the growing of food-crops in
comparatively small areas tem-
porarily cleared for the pur-
pose, there was an abundance
of land for the requirements of
all the tribes, and the boun-
daries which divided the terri-
tory of one community from
that of its neighbours were
very roughly marked and ex-
cited little controversy. When
the cocoa - gardens began to
extend in every direction, how-
ever, the question of the exact
position of tribal frontiers, not
only along the main highways
of traffic but even in the
depth of the forest, assumed
in the eyes of the natives a
new and tremendous import-
ance. Now, in West Africa,

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII.

and indeed, as far as my ex-
perience goes, in all our tropi-
cal colonies, east and west,
the Law Courts which the
British have set up are to the
natives of the country what
the football match, the music-
hall, and the cinema would be
to the English artisan if all
those three delights were rolled
into one. Here, then, with
matter for dispute supplied in
liberal measure by innumer-
able complicated boundary
questions, and with the abun-
dance of ready money derived
from the sale of large quan-
tities of cocoa, were means
furnished of gratifying to an
undreamed-of extent a rapaci-
ous and morbid tribal appetite
for litigation. The deplorable
results of this are enshrined in
the records of the Supreme
Court, and in those of the
Privy Council, to which august
body most oases are carried,
as a matter of course, if tribal
finances will still endure the
strain. The local lawyer has
reaped a rich harvest; but
some native communities, it is
to be feared, have emerged
from these forensic battles in
a condition of more material
ruin than would have been
likely to result from the more
primitive form of warfare
which these contests have re-
placed.

A more pleasing and satis-
factory aspect of the social
revolution now in progress in
the Gold Coast is revealed by
the use which the natives are
making of their newly-acquired
wealth, apart from their un-
fortunate passion for litigation.
E

66

The Gold Coast.

[Jan.

This is shown in a very strik-
ing fashion by a comparison of
the Customs' returns for the
years 1891 and 1916 respec-
tively, in so far as these relate
to articles which are mainly or
exclusively imported for native
consumption.

" The drink - sodden native
of the Coast " is as traditional,
and, so far as my observations
and inquiries carry me, quite
as mythical, as the "deadly
climate" itself. I have tra-
velled widely throughout the
Gold Coast and Ashanti, and
have spent months on end on
such journeys, welcomed every-
where by great concourses of
the people in circumstances of
intense local excitement. If
drunkenness were as common
as it is the fashion often to
represent it, a good deal of
it must inevitably have come
under my notice on occasions
such as these. As a matter
of fact, however, I have seen,
from first to last, fewer oases
of intoxication than I have
witnessed on a single Bank
Holiday in London forty years
ago. An habitual drunkard
is, on the Gold Coast, a very
rare being, and public opinion
so condemns him that a chief
who indulges in such weak-
ness is liable to be deposed
by his subjects, the charge,
if proved against him, being
held to be in itself sufficient
to demonstrate his unfitness
for his post. On the other
hand, large numbers of the
tribesmen over - indulge on
ceremonial occasions, notably
at funerals. That death can
be due to natural causes is
a theory which is difficult of
acceptance by primitive minds,

and the extravagant expres-
sions of grief and lamentation,
whieh are considered necessary
at a " wake," are designed by
the individual mourner to con-
vince his neighbours that he,
at any rate, has had no share
in the magic that has brought
the dear departed prematurely
to the grave. The mad scenes
of organised woe which are
thus enacted owe a measure
of their energy, often enough,
to the stimulus of intoxicants ;
but even on these occasions it
is not prudent to conclude that
those who are comporting
themselves with such extra-
vagance are necessarily the
worse for liquor. Appear-
ances may seem to warrant
such a conclusion, but a
mourner will break off, in
the midst of the wildest and
noisiest praises of the deceased
and the most lively demonstra-
tions of sorrow, to discuss the
weather, the crops, and the
price of cocoa, with perfect
calmness and lucidity.

Moreover, if the consump-
tion of ardent spirits were
indeed the master-passion of
the West African, as is fre-
quently and mistakenly al-
leged, the great wealth which
has been so suddenly poured
into the laps of the natives of
the Gold Coast must have led
to their speedy demoralisation.
It would also be reflected in the
returns which show the amount
of liquor imported. Now, in
1891, the quantity of rum and
gin brought into the country
amounted to 1,190,273 gallons.
Five-and-twenty years later
in 1916 the quantity was
1,603,323, an increase of less
than 35 per cent. Spirits were

1918.]

The Gold Coast.

67

more expensive, owing to in-
creased taxation and other
causes, in 1916 than they were
in 1891, and in the former year
the people paid 130,602 for
their drink, whereas in 1891
they had only paid 75,309.
In the interval, as we have
seen, the income of the natives
had been multiplied by eight,
whereas, during the same period,
their liquor bill had not even
been doubled ; from which facts
I draw the inevitable conclusion
that, with increasing prosperity
and the enlarged outlook upon
life which improved circum-
stances and the spread of edu-
cation bring in their train, the
natives of the Gold Coast have
convinced themselves that there
are many things in the world
which are more desirable than
ardent spirits. Moreover, the
small increase of 35 per cent
in the quantity consumed indi-
cates an actual decrease in the
consumption per head ; for
during the past five-and-twenty
years the population, in addi-
tion to natural increase, has
been swollen by immigration
from other West African
colonies, and many parts of the
Gold Coast and Ashanti, which
were formerly inaccessible to
European trade, have been
opened up. Thus the range of
distribution has been greatly
extended, and the number of
consumers has been much aug-
mented.

It is interesting also to
notice how much the rate of
expenditure by the natives has
increased in directions of an
entirely different kind. In
1891, for instance, they spent
8607 on wearing apparel ;
in 1916 they spent 152,936.

In 1891 they bought hardware
and earthenware to the value
of just over 16,000; in 1916
they spent more than 210,000
on household utensils of this
character. In 1891 they con-
sumed only 3627 cwt. of sugar ;
in 1916 they consumed 34,974
owt. If cleanliness, indeed, rank
next to godliness, the fact that
the population in 1916 used
59,580 owt. of soap, and the men
of 1891 only 7453 cwt,, must
be accounted to the former for
righteousness. They consume
more than nine times as much
kerosene for lighting purposes ;
nine times as much rice, nearly
ten times as much flour, and
eleven times as much salt beef
and pork as in 1891, and the
latter in spite of the fact that
cattle are now daily slaugh-
tered for food in all the prin-
cipal villages throughout the
cocoa districts. In 1891 they
spent only 10,618 on imported
provisions, as against 335,317
expended in the purchase of
such goods in 1916; 102,916
on perfumery, 68,471 on fur-
niture, and 109,673 on build-
ing materials, as against 8012,
709, and 7393 respectively,
for these purposes in 1891.
They also consumed 89 times
as many cigars and cigarettes.
All these things indicate a
very substantial advance in
the standard of living. They
mean that a large number of
natives are housed to-day in
more comfortable and more
sanitary dwellings than were
available to their parents a
quarter of a century ago, while
some of them have built really
handsome houses for the use of
themselves and their families.
They mean that the average

68

The Gold Coast.

[Jan.

villager's hut is well furnished
with household utensils, and is
well lighted after dark; that
he is provided with suitable
tools for the cultivation of his
farm, and that he and his wives
and children are well-fed, well-
clothed, and well- washed. That
some of them drench them-
selves with scents and cos-
metics, and that they smoke
far too many cigarettes, is per-
haps to be deplored ; but even
these excesses point to a cer-
tain, if somewhat crude, striv-
ing after the beautiful and the
good. Long before the native
of the Gold Coast indulges in
these luxuries, however, he first
of all emancipates himself from
the degrading work of carry-
ing heavy burdens for long
distances upon his head. This
task is now performed for him
by immigrants from other parts
of West Africa whom he hires
for the purpose, and to whom
upon occasion he is prepared
to pay an extravagant rate
of wage. For the rest, his
hunger for education though
the standard of attainment is
far from high amounts to a
passion, the intensity of which
has no counterpart in any
other region of the tropics
with which I am acquainted.
Here, then, in a word, are to
be seen the beginnings of a
newly acquired and rapidly
expanding civilisation.

But the fate which has
pursued the West African
negro so relentlessly through-
out the whole course of his
recorded history has its hand
still heavy upon him. In the
past the circumstances of his
environment have been so

unpropitious that he has had
scant chance of developing
any high cultural standard
for himself. To - day condi-
tions are becoming so easy
for him that he is once more
deprived of all incentive to
evolve arts or crafts on his
own independent initiative.
The facile expedient of pay-
ing for all that he wants
suffices to supply his every
requirement, and as he is
never goaded by the sharp
spur of necessity, it inevitably
follows that he is content to
make use of the produce of
the industry of others, or at
best to imitate it, and has
no inducement of any sort to
devise or to elaborate a dis-
tinctive culture of his own.

Much the most notable
achievement that can be
placed to his credit is his
invention, without the assist-
ance of extraneous influence,
of the democratic system of
government and the State
socialism, which are the basic
principles upon which his
tribal polity is founded. Re-
cent innovations, as I have
indicated, tend seriously to
undermine this system ; and
it is interesting to note
that while European political
theorists are apparently work-
ing their way back to a state
of things closely resembling
that which the Twi-speaking
peoples long ago evolved for
themselves, the latter are dis-
playing an inclination to dis-
card them as an immediate
and inevitable accompaniment
of their first real and solid
advance towards a higher
standard of civilisation.

1918.] 69

ON PATROL. IV.
I. OLD WOMEN.

FAINT against the twilight, dim against the evening,
Fading into darkness against the lapping sea,
She sailed away from harbour, from safety into danger,
The ship that took him from me my sailor boy from me.

He went away to join her, from me that loved and bore him,
Loved him ere I bore him, that was all the world to me.
"No time for leave, mother, must be back this evening,
Time for our patrol again, across the winter sea."

Six times over, since he went to join her,

Came he to see me, to run back again.

" Four hours' leave, mother still got the steam up,

Going on patrol to-night the old East lane."

"Seven times lucky, and perhaps we'll have a battle,
Then I'll bring a medal back and give it you to keep."
And his name is in the paper, with close upon a hundred,
Who lie there beside him, many fathom deep.

And beside him in the paper, somebody is writing,
God ! but how I hate him a liar and a fool,
"Where is the British Navy is it staying in the harbours?
Has the Nelson spirit in the Fleet begun to cool?"

II. CHIN UP.

Are the prices high and taxes stiff, is the prospect sad and

dark?
Have you seen your capital dwindle down as low as the

German mark?
Do you feel your troubles around you rise in an endless

dreary wall?
Well thank your God you were born in time for the Greatest

War of all.

It will be all right in a thousand years you won't be bank-
rupt then.

This isn't the time of stocks and shares, it's just the age
of men.

The one that sticks it out will win so don't lie down and
bawl,

But thank your God you've helped to win the noblest War
of all.

70 On Patrol IV. [Jan.

Away to the East in Flanders' mud, through Dante's dream

of Hell,
The troops are working hard for peace with bayonet, bomb,

and shell,

With poison gas and roaring guns beneath a smoking pall;
Yes thank your God your kin are there the finest troops

of all.

You may be stripped of all you have it may be all you say,
But you'll have your life and eyesight left, so stow your talk

of pay.
You won't be dead in a bed of lime with those that heard

the Call;
So thank your God you've an easy job in the Greatest War

of all.

It isn't the money that's going to count when the Flanders'
men return,

And a shake of your hand from Flanders' men is a thing
you've got to earn.

Just think how cold it's going to be in the Nation's Judg-
ment Hall ;

So blow your troubles and find your soul in the Greatest
War of all!

KLAXON.

1918.] 71

BY LIGHT CAR TO MT. ISKANDER.
BY SCTJDAMOKE JABVIS.

As a mountain, Iskander, Bedouins of the surrounding

which lies in the centre of country, and their language,

the Libyan Desert, is not though Arabic, contains many

of great importance, for its words that have a Greek or

height is probably not much Roman origin,

more than 800 feet; but as In the days of Alexander

the highest point in a track- the Great, Siwa was famous

less desert it is of considerable because of the Temple of

value to explorers, and also it Jupiter Ammon, traces of

has a legend concerning it which still remain ; and it

which lends it a certain was on a journey to consult

amount of added interest. the oracle of Jupiter that

The Libyan Desert, which Alexander went to the top

extends from the Nile Valley of Mt. Iskander. He and his

on the east to Tripoli on the party, so the legend relates,

west, was till the war broke left Alexandria, or Iskanderi-

out a tract of country of yeh, as it was then called, and

which very little was known lost their way in the desert

beyond the fact that it con- south of Qattara. Near by

tained the following oases was the mountain, and Alex-

Kharga, Dakla, Baharia, Fara- ander mounted to the top in

fra, Siwa, and Garabub. Ex- the hopes of being able to

plorers had from time to time see Siwa. The outlook from

made their way to and from Iskander is particularly hope-

the various oases, but gen- less, as one can see only miles

erally speaking nothing was and miles of crumbling lime-

known of this vast stretch of stone cliffs and hills; and

desert land. Dakla, Baharia, Alexander gave himself up

Farafra were seldom if ever for lost.

visited ; Siwa was only an Then a crow rose from the

outpost on the Egyptian fron- top of the mountain and flew

tier; and Garabub, as the in a south-westerly direction,

Holy City of the Senoussi and Alexander, presuming that

sect, has never been entered it would go towards water,

by a white man. decided to follow the line of

Siwa is of considerable in- its flight, and eventually

terest, as in bygone days it reached Siwa safely,

was settled by both Greeks Since those days there is

and Romans, and it is believed no record of a white man

that the present population of having climbed to the top of

this oasis are descendants of Iskander, though one or two

these races. Certainly they explorers have passed within

are much fairer than the a few miles or so of its base

72

By Light Car to Mt. Iskander.

[Jan.

and marked its position ap-
proximately in the map.

We were therefore pleased,
and more than pleased, as we
say in Egypt, when we re-
ceived orders to make a
reoonnaissanoe in four light
oars from Bayud on the
Matruh-Siwa road to Qattara,
which is a small oasis on
the Dabaa-Siwa road. This
meant crossing a tract of
country some eighty miles
wide, practically all of which
was unexplored, and inciden-
tally the placing of Mt.
Iskander correctly on the map.
The road to Siwa is not
exactly a racing track, but
it provides excellent going,
though it consists only of the
ordinary desert swept clear of
stones and cleared of lumps ;
and by starting from Mersa
Matruh at 7 A.M. we had
reached Bayud by midday.
Bayud is not a town, or even
a well; it is just a mark in
the map, and why it should
have a name is a matter for
conjecture.

Filling up our petrol tanks
to the fullest capacity from
the dump here, we struck out
in an easterly direction over
rooky desert, where every ten
yards the oars bumped over a
boulder ; but for the most part
the going was hard, and the
Ford oar will negotiate any-
thing but soft sand. Until
3 P.M. the desert was prac-
tically featureless, except for
the wonderful mirages we met
every mile or so. These
mirages always took the form
of palm and other trees grow-
ing by the side of or actually
on a marshy lake. At first

sight they are very wonderful,
but the explanation is really
quite simple. The shimmering
heat waves coming from a
slight rise in front magnify
the objects on the desert some
half mile or mile beyond, so
that the tiny bushes of scrub
or patches of gazelle grass are
enlarged and elongated into
palm- and fig-trees, while the
heat waves themselves make
stretches of glistening water.
Some attempts to photograph
them were made, but the whole
mirage depends entirely on the
angle of vision, and the picture
vanishes at once if the angle
is altered in the slightest
degree.

At 3 P.M. the leading car
stopped at the edge of a huge
escarpment that fell away in
crumbling limestone cliffs to a
wadi or valley below, and from
the top we looked across as
desolate and forbidding a
stretch of country as could
be seen in this world. For
twenty or thirty miles the
ground dropped in ledges and
steep cliffs to lower levels,
broken here and there by high
ridges of harder limestone that
had resisted the general dis-
integration by the weather.
It was in fact a miniature of
the Grand Canyon in Arizona,
except that there was no flow-
ing river in the lowest level,
and there was none of the rich
colouring of different rocks
and soils. Here everything
was soft grey limestone, un-
broken by tree or shrub; but
as the sun sank and the purple
shadows of the near distance,
and the blue shadows farther
away, crept out across the

1918.]

By Light Car to Mt. lakander.

73

waste, it took on a weird, awe-
inspiring beauty that makes
even the most forbidding
desert attractive.

Some twenty miles or so
from where we stood was a
oone- shaped peak, and away
beyond it to the south-east a
dim shadow on the horizon,
that we presumed would be
Iskander. A compass-bearing
on the peak gave us our line,
and the next thing was to
find a way down to the lower
level. A certain amount of
risk attends a reconnaissance
of this description, for if a
descent is negotiated up which
one cannot return, and no way
out is discovered elsewhere, the
chances of getting back on foot
are extremely remote. The
Light Cars of the Western
District have so far never had
a casualty from this cause, and
it speaks well for the daring
and resourcefulness of officers
and men that they should have
patrolled the terrible country
they have, finding possible
tracks in impossible country,
without losing a man or oar
through a mishap of this de-
scription.

For a few miles we ran
along the hard edge of the
escarpment, and then a pos-
sible means of descent being
discovered, we took a bearing
on the Sugar Loaf peak and
SQt our pointer in the required
direction. This method of
running on a compass-bearing
when the object is not in view
is so ingenious that it is worth
describing. Say, for instance,
the place one is aiming for, but
which is too far away to be
seen, lies S.E. by E., the com-

pass is placed on the ground
and some conspicuous point
S.E. by E. is noted. The
exact bearing of this object
is taken and the car pointed
in that direction. On the
front of the oar is a flat disc,
in the middle of which stands
a perpendicular pointer that
throws a black shadow on the
disc. On the disc itself is a
movable piece of metal that is
the exact size of the shadow,
and this strip of metal is
moved round till the shadow
of the pointer lies exactly on
it. When the car moves on
the conspicuous object is fre-
quently lost sight of, some-
times for four miles or so, but
there is no difficulty in running
in the required direction with
the help of the shadow on the
disc. It is necessary, if one
desires to run very exactly, to
take a fresh bearing every half
hour to allow for the move-
ment of the sun. By taking
a speedometer reading and
making a note of the actual
mileage run on each bearing,
the Light Car patrols find at
the end of a day, during which
they have covered, say, 150
miles over bad country, that
their dead reckoning is often
not more than 1000 yards in
error.

On this occasion, having run
down a one-in-three slope of
soft limestone powder to the
wadi below, we found we had
to take a fresh bearing very
frequently, as we had to follow
the line of the wadi which
wound through high cliffs to
the lowest level in front. The
rainfall in this part of the
country is not heavy, but

74

By Light Car to Mt. Iskander.

[Jan.

practically every drop of sur-
face water in the high desert
for miles round finds its way
eventually to this break in
the escarpment, and has worn
away the limestone to a re-
markable degree.

For the rest of that day we
churned on through the soft
limestone powder that rose in
clouds of white around us,
parching our lips and burn-
ing our eyes, and all the while
a scorching sun, untempered by
any breeze in this tract of deep
valleys, made life almost un-
bearable. At 7 P.M. we had
run into a tract of gypsum
and salt crystals lying in the
powder, and here, as there
was some grip for the tyres,
we pulled up for the night in
a spot that might be called
"Annihilation's waste."

It was extremely unlikely
that any Senoussi patrols
would be met with in such
an impossible bit of country,
and therefore, although it was
nearly dark, we chanced the
risk and made a fire to cook
our Maoonoohie rations and
boil our tea. Whilst the meal
was being prepared the me-
chanics set to work by the
light of a lantern to replace
parts and tighten up the nuts
of the oars, for, as the Cavalry-
man's first care is his horse, the
Light Car man's is his oar.

With the first streak of
dawn we pulled out the fol-
lowing morning, and travel-
ling to still lower levels, passed
through the most forbidding
and desolate country. The
scrub that grows so thickly
in most parts of the desert
could find no sustenance here,

and the only plant we found
was a rich green rambler, with
most glorious waxen white
petals and stamens of pale
mauve. It was of the briar-
rose variety, and apparently
grew on the bare rock. There
were also white Roman snail-
shells in countless thousands,
of which twenty-five per cent
were occupied by living snails,
and what these lived on is a
mystery.

The limestone in this district
is full of sea - shells of every
description whelks, cockles,
oysters, escallops, butter -fish,
ormers, &o. These looked so
fresh that they might have
been left high and dry only
by the morning tide. In one
spot we found traces of a
Masrab or camel - track, that
evidently had not been used
for years, "and by it a broken
Roman pot, which, like the
sea-shells, looked as new as
the day it was broken. There
was not a sign of life of any
description, not even a crested
lark, a bird that appears to
pick up a living in almost
any desert, or the sand-lizard
that haunts the most arid
spots.

As we struck a lower level
the limestone cliffs on either
side got gradually less marked,
till eventually we were out on
to the lowest part of the break
in the plateau, and here we
struck hard clay pans as level
as billiard - tables, where the
water from the high ground
collects in the winter. Here
in the pans there were various
shrubs some eight or nine feet
high, flowers of several species,
and some patches of fine gazelle

1918.]

By Light Car to Mt. Ixkander.

75

grass. The grass pointed to
the faot that gazelle might
be discovered, and on topping
the next rise we saw in another
pass a pair of blaok curved
horns. The gazelle himself
was quite invisible, owing to
the marvellous way his colour
matched the hard clay.

A gazelle makes a very tasty
meal, and running the oars up
to within 200 yards we grabbed
our rifles and dismounted. Up
till the stopping of the oars
the gazelle had watched us
in amazement, but on seeing
human beings walking about
he set off at a jerky trot.
According to custom, we
"baaed" sheep-fashion lustily,
and the gazelle at once stopped
and gave us the opportunity
of a broadside shot. Un-
fortunately, we one and all
had the desire to get the first
round off, with the result that
instead of carefully aimed shots
when we had the opportunity
of hitting him, a ragged volley
was poured in, and like a flash
the gazelle was off. The second
oar let off a running shot at
about 300 yards, and the gazelle
stumbled, came to its knees,
but recovered almost at once,
and was off again, followed by
spurts of dust from flying
bullets some wonderfully close
and some extraordinarily wide.
To follow him in oars would
have upset the speedometer
reading, and though he was
undoubtedly wounded, we had
to push on.

By this time Mt. Iskander
was looming up ahead reason-
ably close, and at midday we
had accomplished our object,
and the oars were drawn up in

line under the mountain itself.
The trip had not been accom-
plished without difficulty, for
there had been hours spent in
pushing oars through miles of
powdered limestone, hard work
in terrific heat hauling them
up ascents, and runs made over
ground that resembled slag-
heaps, where the engine was
kept in bottom gear, and the
water boiled furiously in the
radiator, thereby making great
inroads in our store of petrol
and water, both of which were
equally valuable.

After lunch we climbed up
the mountain and found it to
be in three stages. The first
consisted of a narrow plateau
some 200 yards wide, about
150 feet above the level of the
Wadi. Then came a steep
slope, some 300 feet high, of
loose limestone powder, in
which were embedded large
lumps of rotten rook, in many
oases completely hollowed by
wind and weather. At the top
of this slope was a plateau of
hard rook some 100 acres in
extent, and at the north-east
and south-east corners two
pinnacles about 150 feet high,
the south-eastern one being
the true top of the mountain.
We did not realise this till
we had climbed to the nor-
therly, and had to descend,
cross the plateau, and climb
the other.

The view from the top was
not prepossessing, for to the
east we looked out over a tract
of country that was, if any-
thing, harsher and more for-
bidding than that we had
already traversed. To the
north-east could be seen two

76

By Light Car to Mt. Iskander.

[Jan.

mountains, the North Gazalat
and the South Gazalat, and to
the south-east a sugar-loaf peak
called Kheima, which is Arabic
for a tent. The ground to the
eastward gradually rose first
in a sort of downs of limestone,
and then in cliffs and escarp-
ments to a high level once
more, and it was our task on
the morrow to find a way up
to the high ground.

As we were coming down, a
black bird not a crow, but a
raven rose at the edge of the
plateau and flew away in a
south - westerly direction to-
wards Siwa. This was rather
a quaint coincidence; and one
could not help wondering, con-
sidering it was the only bird
we had seen for the last forty
miles, if it could possibly be a
direct descendant of the bird
that Alexander the Great had
seen. Havens or their off-
spring have been known to
occupy the same nesting
haunt for 200 years, so why
not for 2000? Looking over
the edge of the cliff, we found
the nest with two eggs in it.
The nest, which was of huge
dimensions, was made of pieces
of scrub, and, judging by its
size, was at any rate quite
200 years old.

That afternoon was spent in
working out our position and
reconnoitring the country near
by. Mt. Iskander was cor-
rectly placed on the map,
which was the primary object
of our patrol; but we dis-
covered little of interest in
the vicinity beyond the fact
that nothing had passed that
way for years. There were
no tracks or traces of camels,

no human footprints, and, ex-
cept for the solitary raven
and a very small grey desert
insect of the Praying Mantis
variety, not a trace of life
of any kind,

Iskander itself is quite im-
posing from below, and, like
most mountains with two or
more peaks, appeared to be
one solid block with a flat
top. When the sun dropped
to the horizon it threw a huge
purple shadow across miles of
desert; and in fact the whole
of the country was wonder-
fully beautiful in the failing
light the far peaks standing
out white against a pale
mauve sky; while Iskander, a
chequer-board of shadows and
high lights, of purples, blues,
yellows, and white, was clear-
cut against the faint daffodil
glow of the western horizon.

The rest of the trip was a
failure; for we failed to get
through to Qattara, failed to
find a way to the Qattara
road, and almost failed to
get anywhere. The country
to the east, south - east, and
north - east was of the worst
possible description, and quite
out of the question for oars.
But eventually we struck an
old Masrab, and following it
to the north through horrible
going, won through, after a
most strenuous time, to the
Dabaa road by Bir Khalda
a Roman cistern, of which
there are many on the West-
ern Desert. Practically a
whole day was spent, in
terrific heat, hauling the cars
by means of ropes up a
series of sandy passes; and
after that a big stretch over

1918.] By Light Car to Mt. Iskander. 77

patches of hard limestone crust, us considerably, till we sud-
with pools of the finest pos- denly realised they were tele-
sible salmon-pink powder every graph poles the late Khedive's
few yards. The cars gained telegraph to Siwa. Our
momentum on the crust, troubles were over, and next
and then lurched in a cloud moment we were bowling
of powder into the patches along at a comfortable twenty-
of soft going. Sometimes the five miles an hour on the so-
speed carried us through; but called Dabaa-Siwa road. At
more often the car stuck and 4 P.M. that evening we saw
had to be hauled out, and so to the south the pure white
the day dragged on with the sand-dunes of the coast at
cars badly shaken, the men Matruh, and glistening in the
absolutely worn out, and the distance behind them the deep-
stock of water and petrol blue of the Mediterranean. A
perilously low. deliciously cool sea breeze blew
Then gradually the going directly in our faces, and, with
improved, and on the fourth the prospect of water and clean
day we discerned on the clothes before us, the trials
horizon small black specks at and hardships at Mt. Iskander
equal distances which puzzled were soon forgotten.

78

[Jan.

THE WEEVILS.

BY ZERES.

" What is known in India as the Ghadr movement was at the root of the . . .
conspiracy. That movement has for its object the overthrow of the British
Government in India by violent means." London Daily Paper, Feb. 12, 1917.

"ANYTHING new in the
Eeuters to - night ? " asked
Captain Jennings as he sipped
an iced vermuth under the
snowy punkahs of the Native
Cavalry Mess.

"Nothing worth writing
home about," replied his sub-
altern, loosening the starched
collar of his white mess jacket
as he spoke. "Usual sort of
rot, * steady progress was made
on the right' somewhere in
France. Minor push in Mess-
pot, and half a dozen tramp
steamers done in; I say, it's
about the frozen limit, sitting
here doing nothing in a stink-
ing oven like Sepahipore, when
at home every civilian's in
khaki gettin' D.S.O.'s and
M.C.V

The grievance was an old
one, and because, at the end
of an Indian June, nobody
takes the slightest interest in
the troubles of their fellow-
men, the Captain vouchsafed
no reply, but settled himself
down to the advertisement
column of the * Pioneer.'
" Bay Australian Gelding," he
read out mechanically, "six-
teen hands, staunch after pig,
trained charger, carries a
lady "

" And waits at table," inter-
rupted his subaltern cynically.
" I know the breed, India's full

of 'em ; owner only sellin' as
an act of public philanthropy
two thousand rupees, with
the syce thrown in ! Pooh !
but it's hot ! Here, Mohamed,
bring me a peg ! "

He flung himself listlessly
upon the green leather sofa
and stared critically at the
shape of his faultless white
mess overalls, so tightly
strapped under his well -cut
Wellington boots. "By the
way, Jennings," he remarked
suddenly, "what d'you think
of that new squadron clerk of
ours ? "

"Why d'you ask?" replied
the Captain, glancing up from
his newspaper.

"Well, he strikes me as
being a bit too well educated
for an ordinary squadron babu.
Why the deuce does he come
to the regiment when he might
easily get a billet in the Civil
on twice the pay ? Doesn't it
strike you as being a bit fishy ?
One's got to be on the look-out
for rotters nowadays after that
Lahore conspiracy case."

The Captain yawned. "I
wish to goodness you'd keep
off that bally sedition mania
of yours, Dicky. You see an
anarchist in every punka coolie
nowadays, and it gets a bit
monotonous in the hot weather.
What about that wretched

1918.] The Weevils.

khitmatgar of yours you had
up before the D.C. 1 a month
ago?" and he smiled malici-
ously.

Dicky Magniao flushed guilt-
ily under his warm tan at this
humiliating recollection, and
flung the sofa cushion at his
Squadron Commander's head.
"Nobody can be right every
ruddy time," he objected, as,
ducking, he avoided the swiftly
returned missile ; " but it's
always just as well to be on
the safe side, particularly in
war-time."

"And so let the men think
you distrust them? That's
asking for trouble with the
wily Oriental."

"I'm not worrying about
the men at present," replied
young Magniao stubbornly,
"but about the bally swine
who get gassing rot to them ;
and as a matter of fact I've
noticed this particular Bengali
babu messing around the Sikh
squadrons for the last month
rather more than seemed
necessary."

"I think you can safely
leave the politics of the Sikh
squadrons in the hands of old
Eisaldar Major Pahl Singh,"
said his Squadron Leader;
"you don't doubt his loyalty,
do you?"

" Lord, no! but he's getting
old and easy-going, and I don't
believe he knows half of what
goes on nowadays among his
own people."

"You'd better not say that
to the old boy himself ! "
laughed the Captain. "He's
no respecter of persons until

79

they've been in the regiment
about twenty years. Even I,
with ten years' service, am a
mere boy from his point of
view, and you at twenty-two
he probably regards as a sort
of regimental mascot!"

Dicky Magniao smiled good-
temperedly . " That's just what
I complain of in our show," he
said. "Everybody in India is
considered an irresponsible kid
until he's too old to be any
bally use. I've a good mind
to go to the K.A.R,. 2 Africa's
a young man's country."

"Out of the mouths of babes,"
&o., quoted the Colonel as he
entered the mess, mopping his
prickly heat - tortured brow.
"Has Dicky found another
anarchist ? Who is it this
time? My wife's ayah? Why
the blazes is the mess trumpet
late ? Oh I there it goes.
Where are the others ? Come
along ! It's going to be a real
scorcher to-night." And he
clanked into the dining-room
and seated himself in front of
the revolving therm antidote.

In appearance Lieut, the
Hon. Richard Magniac to
give him the full style of
address so dear to the official
Anglo -Indian mind was a
typical Indian cavalry sub-
altern of the variety that the
peculiar conditions of this
Service have evolved during
the last hundred years, until
it exists to - day as some-
thing unique in our Imperial
system. Fair, slim, and sun-
burned, with an easy careless
carriage that had lost the
irksome stiffness of former

Deputy Commissioner.

2 King's African Rifles.

80

The Weevils.

[Jan.

Sandhurst drill instructors, a
light weight on a horse, with
even lighter hands, an im-
maculate figure upon parade
in the tight green turban,
the loose grey robe, and the
dull gleaming riding - boots
of his picturesque native uni-
form, he stood wholly repre-
sentative of the spirit of his
Service, which resents sergeant-
ma jorism, deems polo and pig-
sticking the only way of
gentlemanly salvation, and
which yearns devoutly to pit
its light lances and handy
little horses against the
heavier but slower manoeuvr-
ing Continental cavalry, even
as the Saracens were formerly
pitted against the Crusaders.
It would be an entirely un-
just criticism to say that the
Indian Army officer is un-
imaginative concerning, or
uninfluenced by, the Eastern
environment in which his lot
is oast; but in nine cases out
of ten his too intimate con-
nection with the daily drudgery
of an Asiatic career has de-
stroyed his youthful awe for
"the mysterious East" of the
globe-trotter and novelist, un-
til India has become, for him
at least, no longer mysterious
but frankly prosaic.

We said in nine oases out
of ten as regards the men
who lost their belief in the
romance of the East ; but
Dicky Magniao was the tenth,
and, undeterred by good-
natured ridicule on the part
of Captain Jennings, he stuck
to his guns, and maintained
his rather logical belief that
the Englishman would never
appreciate India until, daring

greatly, he should occasionally
leave the charmed circle of
commonplace Anglo - Indian
life and plunge into the re-
motest corners of native city
and jungle. In all this he
was strongly encouraged by
one Major Berkelaye, who for
the time being was seconded
from the regiment for staff
employment in France. But,
then, Berkelaye was one of
those impossible individuals
who spend half their leave
messing around every Eastern
caravanserai that they can
find between Agra and
Teheran, simply because they
really enjoy such unholy
vagabondages.

Whether such students of
Asiatic life and character are
wise or foolish in their
disreputably unconventional
modus operandi is a matter
of opinion; but, for the pur-
poses of this narrative, it is
enough to say that Dicky
Magniao knew far more of
certain aspects of the com-
plex vie intime of an Oriental
squadron than most subalterns
of his age and service.

The officers in mess finished
their dinner and adjourned to
the ante -room. A rubber of
auction bridge was arranged,
and two energetic mortals be-
gan to knock the billiard-balls
about, albeit the relentless
thermometer reminded them
that it was over 105 Fahren-
heit even inside the artificially
cooled mess -house; and this
at half-past ten at night.

Dicky smoked a cheroot,
and, having exhausted the
humour of the * Winning
Post' and the art of 'La Vie

1918.]

The Weevils.

81

Parisienne,' bade the senior
officer present an ironio
" Good - night," and strolled
out into the lonely moonlit
mess compound.

The noisy Indian crickets
shrilled through the merciless
heat, a jackal wailed from a
patch of ragged crops near
the road, and a snake rustled
warily through some dead
leaves at his feet.

He entered the bachelors'
quarters at the back of the
mess -house, commonly known
in the elegant argot of the
cantonment as the "Dogs'
Home," and, after rousing
the slumbering punka - coolie,
seated himself in front of his
ugly roll-top desk and reached
for a Persian grammar, a copy
of Omar's immortal ' Kubaiyat,'
and an American copy-book.
Then, lighting a cigarette, he
proceeded to translate the
delicately cynical philosophy of
the ancient East into literal
modern and rather clumsy
English. "Far as I can
make out, Fitzgerald's trans-
lation seems a bit free," he
muttered grimly to himself.
" Can't see anything about
*a loaf of bread and thou.'
The actual Persian seems to
indicate ' a thigh - bone of
mutton and thou ' ! Bit of
realist, old Omar, if I'm
correct! I'll ask the Munshi
to-morrow."

" The stars are setting, and the cara-
van

Starts for the Dawn of Nothing. Oh,
make haste J "

he quoted thoughtfully. "That's

damned good if you really come

to think of it, and then people

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII.

say the East doesn't under-
stand sarcasm ! Hullo ! what's
up, Pinoher ? " for his English
fox-terrier stood bristling all
over with some canine emotion
that was not altogether anger.

Gur-r-r-h, began Pincher
truculently, and then, with a
howl, he bolted incontinently
under his master's bed. At
the same moment the punka-
coolie dropped the punka rope
noiselessly, and disappeared
into the silent darkness.

The unseen cause of all this
discomfiture refusing to reveal
itself, Dicky did the only thing
possible in India under such cir-
cumstances, and called loudly
for his head servant. But out-
side silence reigned supreme;
no bubbling kettles upon their
gipsy fires, no chattering native
children, and worst of all, no
respectable Mohamed Din, most
resourceful of mortals.

" Bearer ! " he shouted again
and yet again. " Come hither,
O shameless one ! Your master
awaits you ; are you a king that
you tarry thus ? "

Again Pinoher howled a
dreary kind of banshee howl
that is not comforting in the
lonely gloom of a deserted
bungalow in devil-ridden Asia.
" Shut up, you brute ! " cried
Dicky. "What in the name
of Allah's up ? "

Then, suddenly, out of the
hot furnace of the shimmering
Indian night, arose a stout
shadowy figure in an attitude
of abject apology. "My lord
called and I was not," it said
tearfully, " and great is my
shame and my error. For-
give me, Cherisher of the
Poor, but I was frightened ;
F

82

The Weevils.

[Jan.

I am only a poor man with
very many children."

"Are you drunk?" asked
Dioky prosaically, for the
old servant was ashy grey
and trembling from head to
foot.

"No,- sahib," replied Mo-
hamed Din piteously. " I am,
as you know, a follower of the
Prophet who abstained from
wine."

"Then why all this upset?
The dog is frightened, the
punka-ooolie is frightened, and
now you are frightened ! "

"Even the dog was fright-
ened, sahib?"

"Yes."

If Mohamed Din had been
a Catholic, he would have
crossed himself. Being a
devout Mussulman, he merely
shivered. " No Djinn an
injure a true believer," he re-
marked unoonvinoingly, "but
this house is the abode of
Christians!" And then, re-
gardless of all domestic eti-
quette, he sat down heavily
upon the floor, although his
master was still standing.

" Is all the world mad to-
night?" asked Dioky angrily.

"No, huzoor; but if I tell
you the truth concerning my
terror, you, as a sahib, will
never believe me."

" Why not ? "

"Because the Sahib Log,
being so clever with their
rel trains, their sailless ships,
and their air carriages, have
forgotten that aught lives
upon Allah's earth save only
water, oil, and iron, or such-
like creatures."

Dioky shied off the inevit-
able theological controversy on

Western Materialism, so dear
to the Moslem mind. "What
do you mean exactly ? " he
asked crisply.

" This, sahib. Have you
forgotten that here in this
bungalow, some sixty years
ago, lived three young sahibs
such as you, save only that
they were of the Infantry?"

" Well, what about them ? "

" All were slain by their own
Sepoys, sahib, in the bad old
days before Delhi fell."

"I know that as well as you
do, but what has it got to do
with all this row?"

"This only, huzoor nay, do
not smile that young Erring-
ton Sahib, the Adjutant, was
slain in this very room, pistol
in hand, his back against that
cupboard ; and ever since that
night, when evil is in the wind,
he comes to warn all other
Sahibs to be ready even as he
was not."

"Cheery sort of yarn to
hear at midnight," soliloquised
Dioky to himself. Aloud he
added: "Then, did he come
to-night?"

"Even so, sahib, he breathed
upon the dog, he struck the
punka-ooolie for ever since
then he has hated all of us
black men and me he saw.
Hence my flight!"

"And you really believe
all this balderdash, Mohamed
Din?"

The old servant pulled him-
self together indignantly. " Of
what use to speak to Sahibs of
what is real?" he cried ironic-
ally. "When I lie about the
loss of the Presence's shirts or
under - vests, I am believed,
but when I tell the truth

1918.]

The Weevils.

83

about Errington Sahib, I am
mocked!"

Dicky looked at him more
kindly. "Never mind," he
said, laughing. "I daresay
your Sahib is almost as big a
fool as you think him yourself !
But now thus ordain matters
that the punka-ooolie returns,
for it is hot, and I would sleep
before dawn."

Mohamed Din hobbled across
the compound to do his bidding.
"Now always excepting our
Colonel Sahib," he grumbled
piously to himself, "also the
other officers of this Risala and
the English Magistrate at
Umballa, who, twelve years
ago, gave judgment against
mine enemy, may God's curse
rest eternally upon all infidels,
for who, save Satan, can fathom
the depths of their unbelief ! "

A question that is often put
to the sorely-tried Anglo-Indian
official when he spends his
hardly-earned leave among his
English cousins is : " Could
there ever be another Indian
Mutiny?" This form of in-
quiry is exactly upon a par
with other abstract generalis-
ations, such as : " Is Europe
musical?" or "Does poultry
farming pay?" The armies
of India both those directly
under the Crown and those
that are raised by the Great
Feudatory Princes of the land
form a cosmopolitan host of
Asiatic soldiery, differing in
race, religion, language, and
character. For the most part
they are primitive individuals,
feudal in mind, contemptuous
of Western innovations, sus-
picious of all change, and in-

tensely sensitive where their
honour, creed, or dignity is con-
cerned ; devotedly loyal to any
personality or cause that grips
their imagination, they are also
credulous and ignorant, and to
exploit such soldierly simplicity
for his own purpose, has been
the eternal hope of every
political agitator both before
and after '57.

All this and much more
was known to the tatterde-
malion on the edge of the
Grand Trunk Road. His foul
matted beard, his long wine-
coloured hair, his steady pas-
sionless eyes, and his ragged
salmon-coloured habit, all alike
proclaimed him a religious
mystic such as the occult phil-
osophy of Ancient Hinduism
has encouraged for the last
three thousand years. He was
accompanied by a chela or dis-
ciple, a rather cheeky-looking
Hindu boy of ten, who, as yet,
showed no sign oJ mystical
propensities, but who conversely
clutched feverishly at an almost
indecently big begging bowl
that should merely have been
the modest symbol of a volun-
tary poverty.

We have said that this Hindu
fakir knew of all the idiosyn-
crasies of the Sepoy army
and of the hundred cross cur-
rents that eddy and swirl
around the rook of its loyalty,
for he had been a soldier him-
self before seeking the Path
that leads to the High Con-
sciousness.

At the moment of introduc-
ing him to the reader he was
sitting like some graven image
under the shade of a huge
mango grove that flanked the

84

The Weevils.

[Jan.

King's highway, lost in a medi-
tation of High Indifference to
the tedious exactions of life.
His sympathetic chela was lay-
ing out a hurdle-course of twigs
for two grasshoppers which he
intended to race against each
other, and in the distance the
gardens, minarets, and canton-
ments of Sepahipore lay like
the scenery of a theatre curtain
under the pearly mists of the
fiery Indian sunset. An ox-
waggon creaked sleepily past
the seekers after knowledge;
a sacred monkey crept close to
the fakir's bosom, in its pathetic
quest for human sympathy;
and finally, young Sodager
Singh, Sikh trumpeter of the
Forty-Fourth Indian Lancers,
came riding by in all his youth-
ful martial glory.

At the sight of the religieux
he reined back his fretting
country-bred mare, and asking
for a blessing at his hands,
threw a small silver coin to
the business-like chela, who be-
lieved firmly in the maxim of
the labourer being worthy of
his hire.

The fakir, in his professional
capacity, adjured destiny to be
kind to the youth's future, and
then, noting his regimental
badge, turned suddenly upon
him. "You are in the 44th
Risala ? " he asked incuriously.

"Yes, my father and my
mother ! "

" A good regiment the best
in Hindustan ? "

" Without doubt : our Colonel
Sahib is the best polo-player in
the world, and my Squadron
Commander has shot forty-eight

tiger. The rest of our Sahibs
are laughter-loving, of good
report in their own land,
and never over-harsh to the
necessary indiscretions of a
smart young Sikh, provided
he knows his trumpet-calls at
the gallop, takes his tent peg
thrice out of four runs, and
abstains from the tobacco and
the razor that our Durbar
forbids "

"Then you like your regi-
ment?"

"Why not? My Squadron

Commander, who is named

"Peace be with thy Squad-
ron Commander," interrupted
the fakir patiently ; " we have
now spoken together of trifles,
but what of the new babu in
"C" Squadron?"

" My own Squadron ! By
the Granth- Sahib, 1 you have
the hidden knowledge!" and
the youth shivered supersti-
tiously as he dug his small,
sharply spurred boot - heel
against the wincing flank of
the sweating chestnut mare.
"What do I know of babus?"
he asked sullenly, " I who am
a soldier?"

" And also it would seem
a fool!"

" Forgive me, Holiest ! I
am but a simple horse-breeder
from Tarn Taran."

" Now you speak truth ! "

"Why not to such as thee!
Peace! indifferent seed of a
donkey stallion" this to his
indignant charger "I dis-
mount ! "

He leaped nimbly to the
ground, and, handing his reins

Granth-SahibThe Sikh Bible.

1918.] The Weevils.

to the chela, seated himself
ingenuously in the dust at the
mystic's feet. Then he thrust
the bamboo shaft of his slender
lanoe under his left armpit,
and threw himself into one of
those graceful, easy postures
that come so naturally to the
dignified yet careless Oriental.

"You know, then, of this
babu, whom men call Anath
Bhose, O Solver of Secrets?"

"Even so, trumpeter; do
you like him?"

"I like a babu! God for-
bid! but he is useful to those
whose purse is empty."

" What does he give you ? "

"Many things a padded
quilt and the quinine medicine
against the malaria, good rum
and opium when the belly
aches, but mostly rum and
sweetmeats and talk."

"Hail talk?"

"Aye, for ever he talks like
all Bengalis and other fish-
eaters. Talking and writing
are, I verily believe, to a Ben-
gali what war and love are to
a Sikh ! "

"And of what does he talk?"

"Of men and gods and
changes, and visions, and the
follies of the Kaj."

"And you listen?"

"Aye, for good rum is not
cheap in war time, and do not
the follies of the Raj always
compel the wonder of those
who are not smitten by the
same madness as the English?"

"What dost thou know of
the English, O mere horse-
begetter?"

" Naught, save that I swore
upon enlistment to fight for

85

one Garge Padishah 1 this side
of the water or across it. And
by God ! he seems to have
many enemies ! Are we not
for ever fighting his battles
from Tirah to France, and
from the land of the Somalis
to that of the Chinese?"

"Has Anath Bhose said
aught against the English
Padishah ? " interrupted the
fakir.

The young trumpeterdropped
his sleepy, almond-shaped eyes
in self-defence against the keen
piercing glance of the mystic.
He was no fool, despite his ap-
parent buoolism, and had seen
from the first the drift of the
fakir's conversation. Hence his
pose as a rustic simpleton.

"I have heard of such evil
follies from my grandfather,
the Risaldar," he replied mean-
ingly ; " but we of Tarn Taran
have never been disloyal to our
salt."

" Take heed that you never
are," replied the fakir sternly,
"and watch Anath Bhose, for
by that path lieth honour and
promotion. You understand ? "

" Without doubt. Opium
and rum may be rare in war
time, but am I a child or an
Infantry mud-foot to be bribed
or deceived ? At seventeen we
of the Cavalry have wedded
our woman and broken our
horse, or, as some say of the
Cavalry, wedded our horse and
broken our woman else a fool."

" You speak discreetly," said
the fakir, rising, "and if rum
and opium are rare in times of
trouble, more rare are loyalty
and love ! All and each are

1 King George V.

86

The Weevils.

[Jan.

more oommon in years of fat-
ness. Be vigilant and be hon-
ourable as befits your youth
and your breeding, and now,
farewell, little husband of the
horse ! "

"Farewell, little prattler of
your honour ! " cried the small,
mimicking chela viciously, " and
here, take back your two- anna
bit ; it's a bad one ! "

"Hush, Buddhoo," said the
fakir reproachfully. " Discour-
tesy does not help us in our
Search after Reality. Like
other things, it is Folly and
Illusion. Rise, clasp my hand,
and come."

"One thing I forgot," jerked
the trumpeter, as, with his left
foot in the stirrup, he hopped
madly upon the right in a
frantic endeavour to mount
the big dancing mare "one
thing only, and that is ...
Great Wisdom, Great Cunning,
and Great Folly meet daily to-
gether at the Monkey Temple
about the hour of the evening
meal ; so look you to it, for the
guardian of that shrine is our
friend." With which esoteric
remark he scrambled into the
saddle and trotted away.

*

It was the hour of the even-
ing parade, when the little
dust-devils were swirling down
the unwatered roads of the can-
tonment, that Dicky Magniao
came galloping across the Cav-
alry parade-ground on his big
bay charger. He pulled the
mare up upon her hind quarters,
and proceeded to inspect two
squadrons which were drawn
up for an informal tent-pegging
parade. They were a fine
manly lot, deep-chested Sikhs

from the land of the five rivers ;
slim and more delicately-
featured Afridi mountaineers,
with the light-blue eyes, pale
faces, and the faded golden
hair that some say is an in-
heritance of the old Greek
invasion ; Dogras, small and
insignificant -looking, but the
hardest fighters in a tight
corner that the whole of
Asia possesses ; and Hindu-
stani Mussulmen, wiry and well-
bred. The glow of the Indian
sunshine lit up their grave
bronzed faces, jade-green tur-
bans, and flashing steel lance-
points in a dusty glory of
golden splendour. They might
have passed for a bas-relief
tablet symbolical of India mili-
tant, but only a French sculp-
tor could have done justice to
the subject. All of them were
men of position in their own
districts, who for the honour
of serving in the National
Cavalry had, according to cus-
tom, advanced the necessary
money not only for the pur-
chase of their own chargers,
but also for their equipment,
their saddlery, and their uni-
forms as well. For the Silla-
dar system, as it is still called
in India, is a survival of those
old feudal days when the cav-
alryman was a knight rather
than a trooper, and one who
rallied round his overlord with
his own gear, repaying himself
with the spoils of victory.
Surveying them with the many
coloured medal ribbons that
decorated their breasts, and
which had been won on many
an arduous campaign between
Chitral and China, it seemed
almost incredible that such

1918.]

The Weevils.

87

professional veterans, who had
thus already willingly given
their all to the British Raj,
oould ever falter in their al-
legiance to it ; and as he called
the squadrons to attention,
and as a hundred blue-and-
white lance pennons flew up-
ward at his command, even
Dicky Magniao, the sceptical,
felt suddenly ashamed of his
own quite vague suspicions of
impending trouble in their
midst. A Sikh officer, named
Jemedar Bhagget Singh, can-
tered up to him, and, after
the usual salute, informed him
of the number of men present.

"Only one hundred and
seventy-two lances out of two
hundred ' and fifty ? " asked
Dicky, in surprise. " Where
are the rest?"

" On guard, sahib, at fatigue,
or sick."

"Oh, hang it, Jemedar
Sahib, they can't all be siok ! "

The Indian officer shrugged
his shoulders a trifle imperti-
nently. "Does the Lieutenant
Sahib doubt my word ? "

Dicky looked at him curi-
ously, for sulkiness is a rare
characteristic of the Indian
officer. " Of course not," he
replied politely, " but after
parade I will speak with you
again about this matter. Now
carry on."

He rode down the motion-
less ranks until he reached
the eleventh file, and then he
nearly exploded with wrath.
The Sikh, for certain reasons
connected with his youthful
vows, must never shave nor
out his hair. In the Army the
beard is parted and brushed
back over the ears in a con-

ventional manner that makes
for imposing smartness, and
the scalp hair tied neatly in
a knot under the concealing
turban remains invisible. The
eleventh trooper, however, sat
his horse with impudent un-
concern, a hirsute monster of
long straggling beard and con-
spicuously dishevelled locks.

"What the blazing inferno
is this ? " cried Dicky furiously,
because he knew full well such
an apparition stood for delib-
erate impertinence as well as
for military untidiness.

"He is, indeed, a sloven,"
replied the young Jemedar
coolly.

"A sloven ! " shouted Dicky.
"A sloven! of all the blasted
cheek " he paused suddenly.
The East was here obviously
attempting to make him lose
his temper, and the East must
therefore be disappointed.
"He is a dirty wild beast,"
he said more calmly, "so put
him in the Guard-room like a
jungle animal in a cage."

"Sahib," interrupted the
object of his criticisms with
an insolent leer, " I have
taken a vow at the shrine of
a national saint never again to
bind my beard in army fashion.
Must I, therefore, suffer for
my religion?"

" Certainly not," replied
Dicky grimly "at least, not
if the saint of your trust deals
with you as justly as the regi-
ment that you shall leave to-
morrow ! "

"Shall I leave without my
pension ? "

"No, with it; the British
Raj is not a Hindu shroff 1 "

"But "

88

The Weevils.

[Jan.

"Hold thy peaoe, insolent
underbred ! And now to the
Guard-room ! "

"Hello! what's all this?"
asked Captain Jennings, who
had ridden up unobserved.
"Putting old Lai Singh in the
Guard - room, Dioky ? Isn't
that a bit drastic? He's a
good old soldier though I've
never been able to promote
him."

"Look at his beard!" re-
plied Dioky curtly.

" By Jove, yes ! What a lazy
old devil! Still, since he's got
a clean defaulter sheet for
nearly eighteen years, you'd
better give him a chance this
time. What about three days'
C.B."

Dioky inwardly cursed his
senior's obtuseness. Appar-
ently all that Jennings saw in
the electrical atmosphere was
a dirty but worthy old soldier
about to be sacrificed to the
offioiousness of an over-zealous
young officer. Didn't he real-
ise that the whole episode was
pregnant with some deeper
significance? Did he know
nothing of the subtlety of
Oriental insult?

" I beg your pardon, sir," he
said stiffly, " but there is some-
thing behind the whole in-
cident that I should like to
discuss with you later, and, in
the meantime, I would ask
your permission to confine this
man."

Captain Jennings smiled
good-naturedly. " Biding your
sedition hobby again, Magniao ?
I don't want to interfere with
you on parade, but I wish you
wouldn't confine Lai Singh.
Please, don't."

"As you like, sir," replied
Dicky despairingly, "but if
you won't let me, I must ask
for a transfer to another regi-
ment."

Captain Jennings flushed
slightly at his subaltern's ex-
traordinary persistence, which
seemed to him singularly un-
gracious. "Do exactly what
you like," he replied coldly,
"and report your reasons
afterwards." And then he
rode away.

The men, although not un-
derstanding three words of
English, had not been slow to
grasp the general trend of
the conversation, and awaited
Dicky's final orders with eyes
that gleamed with interest.

" What of Lai Singh, sahib ? "
asked the native officer with
scarcely-disguised malice. "Am
I to confine him in the Quarter
Guard or not ? "

" How many more times am
I to give you your orders ? "
snapped Dioky sternly. "Are
you an officer or an old woman
that you talk instead of act?
Confine Lai Singh at once;
leave the parade yourself ; and
report at my bungalow at
noon to-morrow. ' A ' and ' C '
Squadrons / advance by sections
from the right t Walk march I
What the hell's that man
fiddling with his stirrup-leather
for ? Sit up, and for God's sake
remember you're in the Kathi-
awar Cavalry and not in some
forsaken footsloggers ! Get a
move on trot! steady on the
right there. Fo'orm Line ! rear
gallop!"

The two squadrons thus
lashed out of their immediate
curiosity by Dicky's angry

1918.]

The Weevils.

89

tongue, were roughly drilled
as a moral tonio for half
an hour until their subaltern
considered them ready for the
excitement of tent - pegging
tracks.

This parade over, and the
bets on the number of pegs
taken or missed lost and
won, Dicky dismissed the men
sharply and looked around to
exchange his blown and sweat-
ing charger for a fresh polo
pony. His syce had disap-
peared, but his small grey Arab
gelding stood nuzzling the
sleeve of Trumpeter Sodager
Singh, who seemed to have
appeared from nowhere in
particular. He held Dicky's
stirrup-iron in much the same
way as a medieval Norman
squire was wont to hold the
stirrup of his knight, and,
feudal fashion, flicked the light
moisture from his subaltern's
tall foam-flecked riding-boots.

"Thanks, Sodager Singh,"
said Dicky, gathering up his
reins, and throwing away his
lance. " Kighto ! let him go ! "

" I have something to say,"
said the trumpeter, still hold-
ing the impatient pony by the
bridle. "Is it permitted to
speak to the Sahib ? "

"Of course, why not?" re-
plied Dicky.

" The Bengali jackal smitten
by dangerous madness may yet
infect the Lion of the Punjaub
with the same disease," whis-
pered the young Sikh, bending
low by the Arab's off shoulder
and pretending to tighten his
subaltern's girths.

"Meaning ? ' ' suggested Dicky,
encouragingly

"That Lai Singh's beard

was but a trial of the Sahib's
strength, and Bhagget Singh
Jemadar and Anath Bhose, the
babu, are both traitors ! "

Dicky whistled softly and
caressed his polo pony's plaited
mane. "We cannot speak here
on such matters," he said
quickly, "for, see, all observe
us. Look you, where can we
meet ? "

" If no indiscretion bars my
presence, is it permitted to
speak alone with the Sahib in
his buugalow in the night-
time ? "

" Very good, Ten o'clock to-
night after Mesp."

"The Sahib's slave is ready
to suffer on the morrow for
what was presumptuous over
night if his words, when heard,
shall be deemed mere folly."

"Don't talk bally rot," re-
plied Dicky, and then the ex-
cited grey gelding took charge
of him until he reached the
club verandah and his lady-
love of the immediate moment.

Sodager Singh's midnight
disclosures were more than
even Dicky was prepared for.
With polite, long - winded,
Oriental circumlocution, the
boy had just narrated his
tangled story, and young Mag-
niao was still sitting on his
green canvas camp bedstead
in a bewildered attempt to
elucidate the salient points of
the confused rigmarole. It
appeared that a very holy
fakir, who undoubtedly pos-
sessed dark, occult powers, had
recently formed a confiding
friendship with a learned Brah-
min priest, who lived in a
Monkey Temple, with the

90

The Weevils.

[Jan.

common object of defeating the
wiles of certain enemies of the
British Government. In order
to avert suspicion and to gain
the confidence of such political
malcontents, both Brahmin
and fakir had pretended to
identify themselves with the
cause of the seditionists, and
were even now offering them
the refuge of an underground
shrine in the Temple whenever
they required privacy for their
counsels. Among the conspir-
ators were the "C" Squadron
clerk and the Sikh Native
Officer, who, it was alleged,
were in the habit of secretly
frequenting the Monkey Temple
in each other's company almost
daily or rather nightly. He
also learned that the calculated
insolence upon parade that
afternoon for which old Lai
Singh was heavily bribed had
been a deliberate attempt to
bring religious sentiment into
unnecessary conflict with mili-
tary discipline, in order to
create friction between the
Sikh soldiers and their English
officers ; while, further, it had
also been arranged in the light
of a ballon d'essai to see if
Captain Jennings suspected
anything peculiar in the present
temper of his squadron.

The British officer who com-
mands Native Troops, whether
Indian or African, has many
problems to solve outside his
immediate military duties. To
spend your whole life exagger-
ating the importance of every
trivial untoward incident in
the lines or cantonment is to
make a fool of yourself, while
to ignore other occurrences
that are seemingly just as

innocent is to be criminally
negligent. The forerunner of
the Indian Mutiny was the
apparently aimless circulation
of some mysterious chapattis,
for in the East straws fre-
quently show the direction of
the wind long before more
orthodox weathercocks. Still
smarting as he was under the
ridicule of his Mess for his
"sedition mania," Dicky Mag-
niac was very naturally averse
to inviting further laughter
without good cause, and yet
here some deeply -rooted in-
stinct told him that with all
his grotesque embroidery of
narration the young Sikh
trumpeter was speaking the
truth, and that the poison of
sedition was indeed at work
among the Sikhs of the ^4th
Lancers. One thing stood out
clear and plain if Sodager
Singh was speaking the truth
about Bhagget Singh's alleged
habit of consorting clandes-
tinely with Anath Bhose, then
the Sikh Jemedar's secret par-
tiality for the society of his
humble squadron clerk could
be explained in no way that
was reputable to his character
as a Native Officer, but, on the
contrary, pointed directly to
some mystery, and very pos-
sibly to the seditious proclivi-
ties of which the trumpeter
now frankly accused him.

Dicky Magniac wished de-
voutly that Major Berkelaye
were here to counsel him in his
difficulties, because the latter
had an uncanny habit of read-
ing the Indian mind as in a
mirror. The memories evoked
by the recollection of that ec-
centric officer suddenly brought

1918.]

The Weevils.

91

an unconventional idea into his
own head.

Sodager Singh had ended his
complicated story by saying
that his brother's syce had
heard the Jemedar's orderly
say that his master had ordered
his charger to be brought round
to his bungalow afc midnight,
in order as he, the orderly,
cynically supposed to dally
with the fair and frail in the
great silent eastern city. But
here Dicky preferred to think
the orderly's suspicions of his
master unjust, for it seemed far
more likely in the light of
the trumpeter's disclosures
that Bhagget Singh had an
appointment of quite a different
nature. And, if so, why not at
the Monkey Temple of Sodager
Singh's mention, which ap-
peared to be a general rendez-
vous of sedition, where it was
more than likely that he would
be anxious to discuss the hap-
penings of the afternoon with
his fellow-conspirators, if in-
deed such characters really
existed ? So far so good, and
why not now go himself to the
Monkey Temple, and hiding
near its gates keep watch and
ward over whoever entered or
left it ? Impossible as it would
be for a British officer in mess
kit to escape curious comment
in the native city at night, it
would be quite feasible to avoid
detection in the darkness if he
wore Indian clothes and held
his tongue. His glance here
fell upon Sodager Singh, who
was seated at his invitation on
a Persian prayer-mat at his
feet, dressed in the spotless
white mufti that the Sikh
soldier affects when off duty.

" With that turban pulled half
over my face, and with all that
loose white kit on, nobody would
spot me as a European," he
reflected, and then he broached
the matter to the trumpeter.
The latter entered into the
spirit of the adventure with
alacrity, and further added the
welcome news that he could
guide his subaltern to a email
whispering gallery above the
very shrine where the conspira-
tors were in the habit of meet-
ing.

Dicky threw off his mess kit,
and the highly amused Sodager
Singh proceeded to array him
in his own clothes, which were
by no means a bad fit, and tied
his turban in a rakish youthful
fashion, that in India is a de-
liberate assumption of mid-
night impropriety. " Sahib,"
he whispered, his boyish eyes
dancing with dark mischief as
he fixed a becoming rosebud
over Dicky's right ear, "what
a pity you weren't born a Sikh
and didn't live in Amritsar !
But look you, brother ! give me
the peaked kullah of thy parade
turban, and I will now tie thy
puggri Moslem fashion, for no
Sikh of twenty should be
beardless as thou art ! " Ar-
ranging the few scanty clothes
that were left him as only a
native of India can arrange
something out of nothing,
Sodager Singh then led the
way to the Monkey Temple.
They scrambled up a oobwebbed
spiral staircase that led them
to a precarious foothold under
the fretted roof, and then gazed
down upon the scene below.

Anath Bhose was a pleasant-

92 The Weevils. [Jan.

faced and mildly be-speotaoled only by blackmail levied upon
Bengali of middle age. In Indians and others who fear
official life he was, as we its power, but also by the
have already seen, a clerk in German agent, the Irish-
a squadron office of the 44th American dynamiter, the Cal-
Lanoers; but his unofficial life outta anarchist, and other
was the more interesting of tail -twisters of the British
the two. A graduate of Cam- lion. Its agents are multi-
bridge University, an exten- farious, and its activities
sive traveller both in Middle varied ; it is divided into
Europe and the United States, departments that specialise in
he spoke three European any thing from political rhetoric
languages fluently, had speci- to high explosives, and from
alised to some purpose in gun-running to religious con-
inorganic chemistry, and was troversy. Its central lodge is
deeply impregnated with the a moving tent that may be
ideals of cosmopolitan nihil- pitched in Geneva one year
ism. That he was content and Honolulu the next, and
to work ten hours a day at one period, at least, a
upon a salary of 1 per week Chinaman controlled its des-
in a stuffy mud hut at un- tinies.

congenial tasks connected with Between the hidden maoh-
simple addition, multiplication, inations of such Oriental
subtraction, and division was Machiavellis and the over-
doubtless merely a proof of throw of the Indian Gov-
his altruistic nature, his mod- ernment stands the simple
esty, and his affection for shrewdness of the Indian
the British Government. Most peasant and the oft - tested
certainly he was a man who loyalty of the Indian Army,
believed in hiding his light Whenever this trust or this
under a bushel, for his loyalty is temporarily shaken
English officers were quite by the unscrupulous ingenu-
ignorant of his academical ity of its technically trained
attainments, although, as we agents, then the League of
have already seen, young the Protesting Voice has tem-
Magniao had noticed a oer- porarily scored, and chuckles
tain educational superiority its satisfaction from Paris
that had roused his suspicion, to Singapore. For Captain
Behind Anath Bhose was Jennings, Anath Bhose had
one of the most powerful the profound contempt of the
secret societies in Asia, and wary diplomat for the straight-
whioh, for reference in this forward soldier; but in young
story, we will call the League Maguiao he had instinctively
of the Protesting Voice. This recognised a foeman more
organisation, that has its worthy of his steel. Major
lodges scattered over the Berkelaye's reputation as an
greater part of the route Orientalist was already known
from San Francisco to Poona, to him, and he mentally
has long been financed not thanked all the Hindu gods of

1918]

The Weevils

93

the calendar in whioh he had
ceased to believe that this too-
well-informed officer was away
from the regiment. As for
the other squadron leaders, a
newly-joined subaltern almost
ignorant of Hindustani was
in temporary command of
the second Sikh squadron
Jennings commanded the first
and with the Mohamedans
of the regiment the Hindu
anarchist had no concern, since
there was a great religious
gulf between them.

Anath Bhose had long since
finished his tedious drudgery,
and, locking up his office, he
slipped quietly through the
regimental lines as the Guard-
room clock struck twelve. He
plunged into the dark and
intricate depths of the native
city as one who knew every
inch of its tortuous alleyways,
until he reached the shadow
of an ancient Hindu temple
that loomed abruptly above
the crazy tenements at its foot.
A gloomy burrow of vaulted
stone led downwards into the
very womb of a dimly lit shrine
below, where three pot-bellied
Hindu gods, hoary with sin
and dreadful with mystery,
leered with bestial satisfaction
upon all who entered to offer
them worship. From the
loftier chambers of the hollow
bat-haunted dome above came
harsh, screedy noises of temple
conches and the monotonous
patter of the temple girls'
dancing feet. Outside, under
the diamond and velvet Indian
starlight, the harlots upon the
darkened roof-tops stabbed the
stifling gloom with dreary and
professional laughter ; a pariah

dog howled in the street hard
by; a sacred bull snuffled its
way into the shrine, and a
lame monkey fled scampering
unevenly across the cold
marble pavement. High above
the horrid altar itself, and
upon the damp wall behind,
the eye could just detect a mad
riot of flaming frescoes that
flickered wildly in the draughty
candle-light. Here upon the
dimly painted stone, obscene
monkeys drank from silver
goblets ; pink stallions pranced
over crystal streams; pale
scimitars gleamed wickedly
amid scenes of scarlet rape;
and all the pearls of a jade-
green ocean were poured into
the naked lap of a delicate

fold -lipped god. A sheeted
gure crawled from a deep
recess in the massive stone
wall, and, rising with a stifled
yawn, it lit another native
wick.

"Has the time yet come?"
it asked sleepily.

" The time approaches,"
came the brief reply ; " is
Jemedar Bhagget Singh
here?"

The thin hooded figure ex-
tricated itself leisurely from its
long grey winding-sheet, like
some corpse discarding its
grave -clothes for the Resur-
rection. The dim watery flame
of the cheap farthing lanthorn
revealed a face that was both
intellectual and arrogant.
Aristocratic, ascetic, and
grimly forbidding-looking, the
tall Brahmin guardian of the
shrine towered above the Ben-
gali like an Arabian Djinn
that had just escaped from its
bottle.

94

The Weevils.

[Jan

"Yes, I am here," replied
a gruff voice from the shadow,
and a bearded Sikh officer
dressed in mufti revealed him-
self. The Jemedar's demeanour
in the presence of his squadron
clerk formed a curious mixture
of contempt and awe : even
when intriguing with the
clever anarchist he could never
forget the Bengali babu. That
as a Sikh soldier he conde-
scended to identify himself
with a seditious movement
conceived by a despised and
unwarlike race, was due . to
the fact that the Bengali had
cleverly exploited both his
wounded pride and his racial
cupidity of which more anon
and also because the modern
"progressive" policy in India
of honouring the Anglicised
native at the expense of his
more conservative brother had
long since exasperated the
Tory, the farmer, and the
soldier in his nature. " When
the English begin to fawn
upon the Bengali babu" so
he argued scornfully, after his
own direct primitive fashion
" it is high time for the Khalsa 1
to reconquer the Punjaub !
And since these Bengalis are
as monkeys in cunning, why
not use their wits until such
time, with the English gone, as
we can out their throats ! "

A certain untoward incident
that had occurred when he
was on leave had recently in-
creased his growing irritation.
A thoughtless young Civil
Servant upon whom he had
called to pay his respects,
and who like all his service,

by nature of their work was
more accustomed to the society
of English-speaking babus and
" progressives " in general than
of conservative Indian gentle-
men, had received him simul-
taneously with a small Pun-
jaubi pleader, entirely ignorant
of the outraged feelings of the
exclusive landowner at find-
ing himself in such bourgeois
society.

The delicacy of the situa-
tion had not been relieved
by the Sub-Divisional Officer's
linguistic limitations, which
had compelled him to direct
most of his conversation to
the verbose Anglicised lawyer
rather than to the simple
aristocratic Sikh, and the
ohaprassis outside had laughed
when the Indian officer
left the bungalow. Bhagget
Singh had not forgotten that
laughter. "It is true that
their Infantry defeated ours at
Gujerat,' ? he had muttered
angrily as, mounting his horse,
he had galloped away in a
rage; "but what of Chillian-
walla, when our Light Horse
out their fat dragoons to
pieces ! " His use of the words
theirs and ours was alone sig-
nificant. No longer was he
the Indian officer proud of
his Imperial commission, but,
rather, responding to the
primitive call of racial an-
tagonism that had been
kindled in his bosom by the
gaucherie of an unintelligent
official, he had reverted to
type, and had ridden away
from the scene a primitive
Sikh chieftain, with black

1 Khalsa Sikhdom.

1918.]

The Weevils.

95

hatred in his heart for the
new order that humbled him
even while it sat in company
with his grandfathers' serfs.

Disdaining the hand that
Anath Bhose had put forward
for him to shake, he reseated
himself upon the pavement of
the shrine, and ooolly drank a
oonoootion of rum and curdled
milk from a gleaming brass
lotah. The Graduate of Cam-
bridge showed no sign that he
had noticed this affront, but
peered suspiciously at another
dim figure that squatted against
the feet of the monkey gods.
" And who is this ? " he asked.

"Only a poor sunny assi"
replied the Brahmin priest,
"who has just taken a re-
ligious vow of complete silence
until death."

"That indeed is lucky for
him I " remarked the Bengali
dryly; "but turn him out for
all that I take no risks."

" I cannot refuse shelter to
those who demand it of me,"
replied the Brahmin with de-
termination, " else these ones "
and he indicated the mon-
strous idols "will be angry.
But rest assured, I will answer
for him with my own life. He
lives close to the gods, and in-
deed hears not our speech
look ! " The fakir for once
parted from his chela seemed
to justify this statement, for
his wide-open eyes were glazed
as one who has fallen into an
ecstatic trance. Anath Bhose
approached him and raised an
eyelid with his slim fore-
finger. " Opium," he remarked
cynically, " so let him remain ;
and now to work."

" That piece of play upon the

parade - ground was cleverly
carried out this afternoon,
Jernedar Sahib," he continued
in a conciliatory tone, his swift
shrewd eyes noting Bhagget
Singh's sulkiness.

"And to serve what pur-
pose?" snarled the native
officer angrily. "A monkey
trick that has caused my face
to be blackened in front of
my own squadron by a boy
lieutenant ! "

"Not so," replied the Ben-
gali encouragingly. "It was
more than that namely, a
test of the Sahib Log's stu-
pidity, and so of great im-
port."

" Stupidity ! " scoffed Bhag-
get Singh. "Think you that
Mainyakk Sahib is a fool not
to recognise open insult?"

"No; and now, being fore-
warned about him, we are
forearmed against him. But
Jennings Sahib, look you, sus-
pected nothing ! "

"True, babu-gee, but there
is one other who does."

"Who is that?"

"The trumpeter, Sodager
Singh."

"What! that child?"

"Even so; for after parade
this evening the wife of my
syce's brother - in - law heard
him hold speech with Main-
yakk Sahib, and both your
name and mine were spoken
in a whisper the Lieutenant
Sahib bending low over his
horse's shoulder, his head close
to that of the boy, who was
pretending to tighten his
girths."

The Bengali paled with
anger. " Then we must act
right quickly, Jemedar Sahib,

96

The Weevils.

[Jan,

or all is lost. First, make
sure that the trumpeter does
not leave the lines again to-
morrow, lest he should hold
further speech with Mainyakk
Sahib ; and, secondly, the time
has come for what we have
often spoken of together."

" You mean " began the

Jemedar stumblingly.

"I mean that WE do not
pay you a thousand rupees
a month for nothing," replied
the anarchist significantly.

"But, babu-gee "

" Enough of your ' buts ' !
If, indeed, you care nothing
that your enemy Ressaldar
Mahmud Khan, the Moslem
beggar, was promoted over
your head; if, indeed, you
have no power over your
own Sikhs; and if, indeed,
you fear the English, whose
lickspittle I believe you still
to be then leave this matter
alone ! "

"I am no lickspittle of any
man," retorted Bhagget Singh
sturdily. "Also, what I com-
mand that will my men obey
are they not from my own
district? but the time is not
yet ripe; and as yet I have
only been able to approach
twenty men."

" Who are you to know when
the time is ripe?" sneered the
Bengali. " The Sikh buffalo is
made for the plough, not for
the Council Chamber for toil,
not for thought."

"And yet," replied the Sikh
soldier suavely, fingering his
curved sabre blade, "I have
heard in our books of the cow
that killed its Brahmin."

The Bengali laughed un-
easily. " Why such talk among
friends ? " he asked smoothly.
" The matter is quite simple.
Next week you will make your
Sikh squadrons drunk outside
the Dharmsala 1 when they
assemble for their evening
festival, and when roused by
rum and by your words against
the British Raj a hallagalla 2
will break out. The sign for
this I will give myself by de-
stroying the bells of arms of
the Moslem squadrons with
dynamite; for unless disarmed
those treacherous Pathan tribes-
men, who are ever an evil,
smiling brood, would assuredly
rally around their English
officers to our great discom-
fiture. Again, other of our
friends will simultaneously ex-
plode the artillery magazine,
destroy the wireless station,
and raise a religious riot
among the scum of the city,
who will then pour into the
European quarter and fire it.
The rum I have already made
ready in barrels, and with it
is mixed some of the drugs
of which I spoke before, and
which fires the brain with the
lust of destruction."

"But of what avail all this?"
said the native officer shrewdly.
"The British Raj will not fall
to the ground because of two
squadrons of drunken Sikhs,
nor do I for one believe that
the city will rise against it ! "

"True, Sirdar, but there is
much hidden behind all this.
From the match to the blaze,
and from the blaze to the
jungle fire ; there are others

1 Sikh place of worship.

2 Disorder riot.

1918.]

The Weevils.

97

watching Sepahipore, and for
suoh timid ones a bold lead is
necessary. Also we now but
prepare a path for the King
of Germany, who, after de-
stroying the English armies
at Kut-el-Amara, is already in
Persia on his way to Hin-
dustan, even as Sikander
Khan 1 oame aforetime ; and I,
for one, marvel at your hesi-
tation, because the King of
Germany, as all the world
knows well, has but recently
embraced the Sikh faith."

"Indeed?" ejaculated Bhag-
get Singh, in surprise. " I
swear that I did not know of
this before."

" Your English officers would
have every reason for keeping
it from you," replied Anath
Bhose drily, " and also for
treating you like a child in
other ways suoh as shaming
you before their own ohap-
rassis."

The Jemedar rose, flushed
with anger and with the air
of one who burns his boats.
" That is enough, babu-gee ! I
have done with the Sahib Log.
After all, am I a sweeper that
a Mohamedan cattle -thief is
promoted above me, and a
beggarly lawyer allowed to sit
in my presence? What now
is your bidding that I may
do it ? But first give me more
rum to drink, for it quickens
all thought."

The anarchist smiled sym-
pathetically. " Shabash ! Jeme-
dar Sahib, and soon all the
world shall ring with our
name. Are you sure of your
men if it comes to killing?"

"After hearing the Sahibs'
deceit about the King of Ger-
many they will assuredly be
filled with great anger, and
already they are sullen, for they
are mocked by the women of
the city because they have not
been sent to the war. Still
they trust Captain Jennings,
who is a real Bahadur, and
they fear Mainyakk Sahib, who
knows too much of our ways,
and unless we can discredit
these two in their eyes the
men will never slay them
drunk or sober."

The Bengali frowned thought-
fully for a minute. " I see," he
said after a short pause, " and
therefore we must so contrive
that "

But at this moment the ex-
cited Dicky leaned forward over
the edge of the whispering
gallery that dominated the
conspirators, and his too loosely
tied turban oatehing against
a rusty staple became unwound,
and slipping from his head fell
into the hollow emptiness below
like some white ghost descend-
ing into the Pit. It struck and
overturned a native lamp that
exploded, and which, leaping up
with a fierce spurt of flame,
threw a vivid, though moment-
ary, glare upon the hitherto
shadowy roof above, and in
that brief moment of illumina-
tion Bhagget Singh looked up,
saw and recognised the face of
his English subaltern.

A second later every light
in the uncanny building was
swiftly extinguished and the
temple plunged into utter dark-

1 Alexander the Great.
VOL. CCI1I. NO. MCCXXVII.

98

The Weevils.

[Jan.

ness. Dioky stumbled down
the slippery age -worn steps
that led to earth again, and
piloted by the oat-like trum-
peter, who had seized his hand
the better to guide him, fell
suddenly into an ambush at
the bottom of the stairway.
Here three or four figures
closed with him unexpectedly,
and bringing him swearing to
the ground, proceeded to restrict
his immediate activities with a
coil of rough hempen rope. He
struck out viciously without
undue regard for Queensberry
rules, but his struggle proving
unavailing, he found himself
together with the trumpeter
unceremoniously bundled into
a small closet hard by, and
then heard the key snap in the
rusty look. Outside fragments
of a whispered consultation
were borne to his ears. "He's
quite safe here/' he heard the
old Brahmin say grimly. . . .
" But why not to-night ? " . . .
The last voice was Bhagget
Singh's, and its tone was any-
thing but encouraging. "Be-
cause," came the cool reply,
" we must dig out the old well
before we can safely dispose of
his body, and that work cannot
be finished before to-morrow
evening."

"Thanks," said Dioky sar-
castically ; " don't hurry on my
account ! "

Bhagget Singh appeared to
be resigned to the delay, for
after some further and near-
ly inaudible conversation, the
prisoners in the cupboard heard
him and the Bengali take leave
of the Brahmin and cross the
stone-pared courtyard outside.
The Brahmin then addressed

some low words to the fakir,
who, although taking no part
in the struggle, had remained
a passive witness of it, and
then both men approached
the door of the prison in
which Dioky and his trum-
peter lay.

" Look here, Sodager Singh,"
Dicky whispered, having man-
aged to free himself from the
hastily tied strands of rope,
"I don't trust your reverend
friends a bit, whatever you
may say about them only being
in with Anath Bhose as a ruse.
So stand by to slosh 'em if
they come nosing in here!
You understand?"

"But indeed, sahib," began
Sodager Singh. The door at
that moment swinging open,
Dioky listened to no more, but
struck out straight from the
shoulder at the face of the'first
figure framed against the star-
light. A hearty British damn I
came from the saintly mouth
of the holy fakir, who, reeling
against the wall, recovered his
balance with difficulty, and then
struck a match.

" Hullo, young fellow my lad,
so you're playing the Haroun-
el-Raschid stunt too, are you ! "
gasped the fakir, bubbling with
laughter and producing a silver
cigarette-case from his ragged
bosom.

"Good God I Berkelaye, is
that you ? " cried Dicky in sur-
prise. "Why the how the
what the-^-why aren't you in
France ? "

"Because, my worthy hero,
I'm on a secret political stunt
of sorts rounding up these
Ghadr gentry," replied the
Major, looking most un- Major-

1918.]

The Weevils.

99

like as he lit his cigarette ;
"and as for you, d n your
eyes for blacking one of
mine ! "

Dicky exploded with silent
laughter. "What fun!" he
said naively; "I don't mean
blacking your eye, but the
whole show. What a ripping
fakir you make. Can't I help
too?"

"Yes," replied the Major
as we will now call the fakir
"you can, and jolly well will!
First, clearly understand that
you're dead and buried, and
that means you can scarcely
be seen in your bungalow fcr a
day or two it wouldn't be
decent and, in consequence,
you had better stay here in the
shrine for the week-end with
my old ' Brahmin' pal, who's
quite good company, as you'll
find. Let me introduce you
Lieutenant Mainyakk Sahib,
Inspector Mul Singh of the
C.I.D. You'll have about three
hundred fairies in the shape of
the temple girls to keep you
company, to say nothing of a
thousand or so sacred monkeys
as well, so you oughtn't to be
dull, I'm not ! Further, your
trumpeter's dead too; aren't
you, Sodager Singh?"

Sodager Singh, whose mind
was in a whirl at the sudden
and miraculous evolution of a
Sahib from what had previ-
ously been a holy and dirty
fakir, gasped faintly, and agreed
that he was. For all that he
knew to the contrary, he might
indeed have left this prosaic
life since the beginning of the
night's adventure.

" But hasn't any one spotted
you ? " asked Dicky, eyeing the

tattered disguise with admir-
ation.

"No," replied the Major
with satisfaction ; " my chela
wait until you see him, he's
worth the whole C.I.D. put
together! ran most of the
shew, and I naver opened my
mouth unnecessarily. Besides, a
religieux can be pretty eccentric
in this country without causing
any comment that's why I
chose the rdle. The nearest
shave I had was that beastly
fox-terrier of yours, who re-
membered me and came out and
wagged his tail in front of your
bearer after the latter had set
him on to drive me out of your
compound ! Old Mohamed Din
nearly had a fit and retired
hurriedly, talking to himself
about sorcery and Satan!

"The thing is this," con-
tinued the Major, "I've got
that bahinshut Bhagget Sing
on toast, and Anath Bhose is
equally incriminated also ; but
I haven't yet got hold of the
names of the other of our lads
who are mixed up in the show.
So far, I don't think that the
Ghadr has had much luck in
the regiment, but that Bengali
swine is as cute as you make
'em, telling the men that the
Government don't send 'em to
the war because it doubts their
courage, and cheery sort of yarns
like that. Also half the women
in the city are in his pay, and
laugh at 'em about not being
on service when they walk
down the bazar of an evening,
and you know how sulky a
Sikh ean get if his dignity's
ruffled by his women-folk. As
far as I can make out, Anath
Bhose and Bhagget Singh have

100

The Weevils.

[Jan.

approached about twenty of
the Sikhs, selecting those who
may have some minor regi-
mental grievance that supplies
a working basis for sedition.
They hope to raise a shindy
during the Sikh festival next
week by making all the men
tight on hooussed liquor and
then turning a seditious Guru 1
on to spout to them; as soon
as I or rather, since I am
supposed to be a deaf and dumb
permanency in the shrine as
soon as Inspector Mul Singh
can get the list of names
of the men involved in the eon-
spiraoy, we'll round 'em all up
on parade and hand 'em over
to the Civil. We will have the
Pathan squadron in the vicinity
in case they out up nasty, but
as a matter of fact I don't
anticipate the rotters getting
much sympathy from the re-
mainder of their squadron, and
twenty men can't give much
trouble when arrested. And
now, lad, that's that, and so to
bed, as old Pepys puts it ! "

" Bed ? " ejaculated Dicky,
eyeing the hard pavement
with disfavour. " What about
my kit? Can't I get my
bearer to bring my Wolseley
valise along to-morrow?"

" Certainly not ! " replied the
stony - hearted field officer.
"But you can share a nice
cool slab of marble altar with
me, come along ! "

"And does the Colonel know
of all this stunt ? " asked Dicky,
as he investigated the dubious
possibilities of the Shrine con-
sidered as a dormitory.

"Of course he does," came

the sleepy reply; "you're not
the only Sherlock Holmes in
Asia ! "

The morning of the Wed-
nesday before the Sikh festival
dawned sultry and breath-
less, as Major Berkelaye now
clothed and in his right mind
rode upon the dusty maidan
accompanied by Dicky Magniao,
who had similarly been resur-
rected from his living tomb in
the temple.

The Colonel and the Ad-
jut ant were already upon
parade, surveying the efforts
of the last -joined ride of re-
cruits in the jumping lane,
while up and down the sheep-
cutting tracks a squadron of
smiling Pathans were un-
ostentatiously trotting the
"measured mile." To the
right of the bells of arms a
party of Punjaubi Mohame-
dans were also unostenta-
tiously engaged at aiming
drill; and in the further dis-
tance, and beyond the road,
the regimental rough - riders
were long-reining some newly-
purchased young horses.

The Sikh squadrons were
forming up preparatory to
riding school, and Jemedar
Bhagget Singh, busily engaged
in dressing their serried ranks,
had his back turned when
Dicky first arrived. When he
had finished straightening the
line he wheeled his horse about,
only to come suddenly face to
face with what at first sight
he mistook for an apparition
from the grave.

"Salam Jemedar Sahib!"

Sikh spiritual adviser.

1918.] The Weevils.

said Dicky politely, " nice
morning, isn't it?"

The Jemedar's face paled as
it became suddenly borne in
upon him that all his treason
was discovered. He made no
reply, but sat his horse like a
man turned to stone, and at
this moment the Colonel came
cantering up with a sheet of
paper in his hands. Standing
up in his stirrup-irons, so that
all might see and hear him the
better, the Colonel slowly read
out a list of twenty-two names.

"Sowar Sant Singh?"

" Present, sahib ! "

* ' The walk march enough !
halt! dismount! Sowars Phul
Singh? Chaggat Singh? Lai
Singh ? " and he read down his
black list until the twenty-two
conscience-stricken Sikhs were
assembled thirty paces in front
of their squadrons. Here the
officer commanding the Pathan
squadron manoeuvred it still
unostentatiously a little closer
to the Sikhs. Lastly, the
Colonel read out in a very
grave voice indeed the name
of Jemedar Bhagget Singh.

The Sikh officer sat staring
blankly to his front as one
who had not heard the sum-
mons, and then soldier-like he
made a prompt decision. "In
the name of the one true God,
there is no such thing as
death!" he quoted bravely

101

from the Sikh Bible ; and
snatching his light sabre
from its slender scabbard, he
galloped straight at Dicky
Magniao, who happened to
be directly in front of him.
Dicky, whose own sword was
already drawn for ceremonial
purposes, dug both spurs home
into his charger's flanks and
met the onslaught at the
oanter. The Sikh lunged
shrewdly, the Englishman
parried as skilfully, and as
they both flashed past each
other Dicky swung round
swiftly in his saddle and
drew a deep scarlet back-
hand out straight across the
nape of his vanishing oppo-
nent's neck.

The native officer dropped
his sabre, clutched drunkenly
at his horse's mane, and ten
paces farther on fell heavily
to the ground.

He was quite dead when
they came to pick him up,
and Sodager Singh, dismount-
ing, bestrode the lifeless body
with a proprietary smile.

"Those bitten by the Mad
Jackal are better thus," he
said grimly, throwing a sig-
nificant glance at the "C"
squadron clerk, who had
incautiously appeared upon
parade ; " and now, sahib,
what of the Mad Jackal
itself ? "

102

[Jan.

ARGENTINE MEMORIES. II.

AT THE HEART OF THE ANDES.

THERE is always another
beautiful world than the one
we know, and the average
European will find at least one
new one if he travels by sea
and land to the far-away
Province of Mendoza in West-
ern Argentina, passes leisurely
from the green vineyards of
the plain to the majestic terrors
of the Cordillera, and descends
by the steep slopes of Chile to
the waters of the Pacific. It
is a long trip, and a costly one,
no doubt, but it will repay a
big outlay of time and money
for all who have the seeing eye
and the smallest fraction of a
soul. And part of the attrac-
tion of this strange and distant
world is, that it is really new
and likely to remain so for a
long time. A sea voyage of
7000 miles, with a train jour-
ney of 750 miles after that, is
apt to keep a place pretty
select. It is never likely to be
trampled into a mere cosmo-
politan commonplace by the
hordes that haunt Switzerland
and the Riviera, from which
delectable places of the earth
the sense of foreignness has
wellnigh disappeared. And
yet it is this sense of foreign -
ness in people, language, and
custom which lends the right
background and gives the true
thrill to the genuine traveller.

The city of Mendoza is the
home of some 80,000 souls. It
lies 750 miles west of Buenos
Aires. One leaves the capital

in the afternoon, goes to bed
later in a most comfortable
sleeping - coach, and awakens
next morning as the train is
sauntering into the sandy
desert of San Luis. Not a
single new piece of scenery has
been missed since the night
before, because the road runs
for about 500 miles over a
perfectly flat ocean of fertile
" camp," -and the general view
at any one point is exactly
what it will be 100 or 200
miles farther on. But on en-
tering San Luis Province, one
enters a waste of barren sand,
low scrub, and ground cactus,
stretching for 150 miles. No
life is to be seen except at
an occasional railway station,
where a few ragged mortals
and a dozen goats awaken one's
wonder at their existence in
such desolation. No human
contrivance can keep out the
dust raised by the train. In-
side, the far end of the car-
riage is sometimes invisible,
and outside one sees nothing
but clouds of it driving past.
When the temperature is about
90 Fahrenheit, the passenger
soon becomes caked with it,
and he is also forced to eat it
in the dining-car, notwith-
standing the abundance of
electric fans. It is therefore
with peculiar joy that towards
afternoon one hails the green
vineyards of Mendoza, the
little snug orchards of peach
and vine, and the myriad rills

1918.]

At the Heart of the Andes.

103

and tiny canals that have veri-
tably caused the desert to re-
joice and to blossom as the
rose. Nowhere else can one
realise better the blessings of
irrigation. Apart from the
beauty of fruit and flower, of
tree and garden, irrigation has
made this province the home,
par excellence, of the wine in-
dustry of the country. Your
true Argentine, and most of
his foreign guests, drink wine
at every meal, and although
there is no export worth the
name, the home consumption
of native wine is so great as
to make it a staple industry,
which receives every year more
scientific care and cultivation.
When the stranger, therefore,
enters this garden of Bacchus,
he sees constantly performed
before his eyes, and in a most
literal way, the well-known
miracle of water turned into
wine; for the river Mendoza,
born among the snow-fields of
the Cordillera, tumbles down
to the foothills, is tapped and
guided over the plain, sinks
into mother earth, and prompt-
ly reappears in the juice of the
grape.

When you leave the station
the charm of the little city
strikes you at once. Almost
every street is an avenue of
trees, and provides delightful
shade and shelter from the
hot sun. On each side there
flows the little rill which has
been doled out from some
bigger canal. In the centre
of the town they flow more
placidly along; but in the
western outskirts, which lie
sloping towards the foothills,
they bubble down the con-

duit to a merry tune, giving
a distinct sense of refreshment
on a hot day. And of course
these "oanales," as they are
called in Spanish, are largely
controlled by the cleansing
department. You see the pic-
turesque employees thereof
laying the white dust by
simply swishing the water
over the road by means of
small pails attached to long
wooden handles. I should im-
agine that it is well to be on
good terms with these gentle-
men ! They must find it easy
and natural to bestow a
liberal baptism on people who
provoke them.

But the happiest use of
these " oanales " is in watering
your garden. The side -walks
are not generally pavemented ;
but even when they are, you
can almost always tap the
stream, guide it into your own
premises, water your flowers
and fruit, and draw off what
remains into the main stream
again. The gardener is in-
dependent of rain in the city
of Mendoza. And every one,
rioh or poor, has his garden
beautiful and luxuriant most
of them are, cool and cosy,
and laden with grapes,
oranges, and peaches, and
many other varieties of fruit.
Indeed, compared with the
hideous back rows of England
and the gloomy tenements of
Scotland, Mendoza is an en-
chanted city, whose every
street is a shady boulevard
of palm and acacia, whose
public buildings are tasteful
and artistic, whose plazas of
gorgeous blossom and per-
fectly cultivated plants and

104

Argentine Memories. II.

[Jan.

flowers yield everlasting de-
light to the eye, and in whose
humblest home is the oool patio
with its centre- well and green
roof of vine. Along the main
streets the broad sunny pave-
ments are rendered at once
gay and reposeful by the
scores of cheerful idlers who
sit and sip their drinks at
tiny tables, and seem on
happy terms with themselves
and all mankind. One feels
that this, indeed, is civilisa-
tion, and thinks with pity and
wonder of that older world
beyond the seas where civil-
isation is synonymous with a
self-absorbed, wholly harassed
existence. Not that business
is lacking. There are banks
and offices and railway head-
quarters, courts of justice,
municipal and provincial
buildings, and great wine
factories all offering plenty
of scope for brain and energy
and initiative. There are
several miles of single and
double track electric tram-
ways, horse coaches are cheap
and plentiful, motor -oars are
everywhere, and the shops
if not in size, certainly in
window dressing are as
wonderful and attractive as
any in our home cities. But
with it all there is ever the
sight and the sense of an
inwoven quietness and o@ol-
ness. Big teams of mules
are still seen dragging their
old - fashioned carts over the
outer streets, the courteous
white - gaitered " vigilantes "
smoke their " oigarillos " on
duty, and not merely n arses
and shop-girls, but the e'lite of
the town, in smart carriages

and handsome motors, turn out
twice a week to hear the city
band discourse classical music
in the great and beautiful park
that lies to the west on the first
gentle slopes of the Andes. On
these and similar occasions the
Guard of Public Security are
on duty. Mounted on splendid
horses and garbed in the most
gorgeous uniform, they lend a
strong element of colour and
chivalry to the scene. The
Park is indeed worthy of any
city in the world, and the
natives will tell you, not with-
out good reason, that it sur-
passes Palermo in Buenos Aires.
There is a large artificial lake,
with a fleet of boats, and the
paths and avenues wind about
amidst entrancing spots of
greenery, that are ever and
anon lit by flashes of brilliant
blossom. Between the higher
branches one occasionally gets
a glimpse of a great statue that
seems to be several miles off.
If you ask what it is, you get a
brief reply brief, but full of
pride and affection, " La Gloria,
Senor." We will tell its tale
later on.

In the meantime any one in-
terested in earthquakes will
make his way right to the op-
posite side of the city. There
in the humblest regions of this
pleasant town he will find the
ruins of San Domingo and San
Francisco. Only the very thick
walls of the cathedral remain
standing. During Easter week
in 1861, just when the people
had poured out of church, the
catastrophe befell. In four
seconds, we are told, the city
was a mass of ruins, with ten
thousand corpses buried under-

1918.]

At the Heart of the Andes.

105

neath. Earth tremors can still
be felt frequently. Although
sometimes alarming, they leave
no mark on the sunny tempera-
ment of the people.

But at all times the domi-
nating feature of Mendoza is
the great chain of the Andes.
They dominate the mind too, if
only unconsciously, and there
is a thrill of expectation as one
mixes with the busy throng of
passengers on the platform f
the narrow-gauge railway that
winds up and away into the
mysteries of the mountains.
From the city, and notably
from the Park, only the lower
ranges are visible, and are so
near that they entirely block
the view of the giant central
range. But these lower hills
are themselves from 4000 feet
to 8000 feet high, and the eye
never wearies of gazing from
the city at their frowning
grandeur, their infinite variety
of shape, and the changing
tones of yellow, brown, and
red that they reflect.

It is six o'clock on a pure
summer morning. The train
from Buenos Aires has just
arrived, and there is the usual
bustle of passengers changing
into the train that will start
for Chile in half an hour. This
train is just a miniature of the
one they have left. The gauge
is very narrow, and yet the
carriages are comfortable and
commodious. The dining-car
is replete with food and
wine, and excellent breakfasts
and luncheons are served.
The first hour is a gradual
winding ascent, and takes us
past a few suburban villages,
delightful, snug little places,

embowered in fruit and green-
ery. One remembers most of
all a certain garden, the prop-
erty it is said of a Frenchman.
Nowhere has the writer seen
such a gorgeous riot of colour
as in that garden, lying at the
foot of mountains whereon not
one green thing will grow.

We reach the river Mendoza
and the steep climb begins.
The engine tugs and pants
into the deepening valley,
crossing and reorossing the
river which foams down head-
long among great boulders
with never a space of calm.
Fourteen times is the river
crossed before the summit is
reached, and so one becomes
gradually accustomed to the
dizzying depths beneath rail-
less bridges, to the slow drag
upwards along the very edge
of awesome precipices, and to
the mountain walls that seem
close against the carriage
window. A brief stop is made
at Potrerillos and Caoheuta,
both of which are fair -sized
villages and have big hotels.
Caeheuta is frequented by
many visitors, not so much
for the scenery as for the
medicinal waters, which have
a great reputation through-
out the country. The baths
are two miles in extent, and
are ver 4000 feet above sea-
level.

After Caoheuta the traveller
is borne still deeper into the
silent cavernous heart of the
great mountains. There is no
valley worth the name, only
massive boulders torn and
twisted and scattered pell-
mell to the gorge, in which
the narrowing river is dash-

106

Argentine Memories. //.

[Jan.

ing and gurgling down. Even
where the basin does widen
out, there is only the coarsest
grass and faintest vegetation.
The sky has long since nar-
rowed to an aroh of blue, only
visible by putting one's head
out of the window and look-
ing up, for the mountain-sides
rise heavenwards on either
hand, sometimes sheer and
rugged, sometimes smooth and
convex, with vast arc -shaped
stains left by spring-time tor-
rents that have burst out from
on high, and, unable to out a
channel, have spread them-
selves out in their descent
over wide fan-shaped areas.

About two in the afternoon
Puente del Inoa is reached, and
every one who really wishes to
see the Andes alights here.
The visitor's first instinct is
to sweep the mountain walls
that hem him in, and the
second is to look back on the
way he has come. He sees
the oog-wheel track disappear
at no great distance, as if over
the round back of a barrel, and
he feels that Mendoza must be
right under his feet if he has
been rising steadily for seven
hours over a curved back like
that. As a matter of fact he
has come just 102 miles, and
is right in the heart of the
central range, though still a
dozen miles from the railway
summit. The valley is here
about half a mile wide, no
more, and so the tiny piece of
civilisation lies almost buried
beneath the towering hills that
gird it round. It is difficult
to believe that the smart little
station is nearly 10,000 feet
above sea -level. The atmos-

phere, too, has changed. We
have passed from an almost
tropical heat to the cool
autumn air of Scotland.

Puente del Inoa takes its
name from the curious natural
bridge which spans the river
at this point, carrying over it
the highroad to Chile. The
ancient Inoas must have ex-
erted their sway as far south
as this, for high up on the
hillside is also a great stone,
reached by a steep bridle-path,
and called the Dios Inoa. At
one glance the eye can take in
the whole human settlement.
It consists of the station, the
post-office, the railway en-
gineer's house, the solitary
farm, where plenty of mules
and a few cows are kept, and
the large up-to-date hotel,
which is the sole accommo-
dation for summer visitors.
These visitors come, not so
much, it is feared, to view the
sublimities and to climb the
mountains, as to take the
baths that are built under
the natural bridge, and are
reached by an underground
tunnel straight from the door
of the hotel. The thermal
waters of these baths are good
for rheumatism, but bad for
the heart.

The writer lived during his
stay with the engineer. It is
a post for which there is little
competition, for during the
long winter the whole place
is buried under snow, with
only the railway signals and
the chimney-pots visible. One
has to dig one's way out and
in, and life is one long fight
with icy winds and deep
snow. The railroad is of

1918.]

At the Heart of the Andes.

107

course blocked, and all traffic
stopped for months together,
and every spring there is the
weary task of cutting open
the road both by spade-work
and by means of great re-
volving snow-ploughs fixed in
front of the engine and driven
by its steam. But it must be
remembered that in this part
of the world the snow-line is
very much higher than we are
used to in Europe. It is
roughly about 13,000 feet, and
so in summer the visitor must
look to the high summits to
see the gleaming patches of
white. The prevailing colours
in summer are brown, yellow,
and ochre, in all shades and
combinations. In late years
it has been found that close
to the river alfalfa will grow
to some little extent. The
goats seem to eat stones, to
judge from the diligence they
show in visibly bare and barren
heights.

There are various excursions
to be made from Inoa, notably
to the Almacenes on the north
and to the Penitentes on the
southern side of the valley.
The latter is distinguished by
huge boulders and ridges about
3000 feet above the railway,
resembling vast images on
their penitential knees. There
is also the Dios Inoa, which
one can climb on foot if the
nerves are good; and above
all the Cumbre, where the
highroad reaches the summit
of the pass into Chile. It is
after a certain stage in these
ascents that the true majesty
of the Andes reveals itself with
almost tremendous effect, for
the snowy peaks and shoul-

ders of Tolosa, Tupungato,
Aconcagua, and other giants
rise to view on every side,
and in that crystal air seem
to close in and smother one
in their grandeur.

The writer remembers well
his climb on foot to the Dios
Inca. The awesome preci-
pices, which at times drop
sheer from one's feet, are
ticklish enough to ordinary
nerves; but it was the snow-
clad monstrosities of Tolosa
and Aconcagua which physi-
cally overwhelmed one with a
sense of utter pigmy feeble-
ness, and created a horrible
sensation that one had lost
all weight and was on the
point of being blown by a
breath of wind into the awful
depths below. Whether this
is the sensation which leads,
as some say, to an occasional
meaningless suicide, the writer
knows not; but he confesses
that he had in sheer fright
to sit down on some secure
ledge of rock and turn away
his eyes from these towering,
threatening masses that were
far off and yet overwhelm-
ingly near. Not only does the
weight of the body seem to
vanish, but these snowy mon-
sters themselves seem to quiver
and reel as if the whole solid
earth were rocking on its base,
and all things clinging to its
surface might be shot into the
horrid depths of space. This
vivid and unreasonable sensa-
tion was no doubt partly caused
by the endless formations and
transformations of cloud and
vapour that rolled and eddied
among these sublime heights,
with such swift and startling

108

Argentine Memories. II.

[Jan.

effects that the eye became
dazed, and across that gulf of
crystal - clear air, snow and
cloud and rock seemed all
shifting and unfixed together.
And one other thing contri-
butes to this strange experi-
ence namely, the sense of
vast loneliness. The Alps are
penetrated and overrun by
humanity. They are the play-
things of a gay and venture-
some crowd. But here Nature
reigns supreme, and the tra-
veller feels that he has put
himself within her titanic
power, far from the reach and
rescue of his race. Neverthe-
less, the writer has in his
possession, as a memento of
that climb, a small round
mirror fixed in a gaudy frame
of gilt, and he sometimes finds
it difficult to believe that this
tiny evidence f human vanity,
dropped, no doubt, from some
pack-mule, was picked up some
12,000 feet high, in the desolate
wilds of South America.

Two days later a party of
six of us set out early in the
morning to make the climb,
par excellence, of this region
of the Cordillera. The Cumbre,
as the name implies, is the
highest point of the road to
Chile. We were mounted on
mules. From Puente Inoa to
Las Cuevas at the head of the
valley is ten miles, during
which the road rises 1300 feet,
and although the traveller is
passing along amidst mountain
grandeur that is hardly sur-
passed in any part of the world,
his mule remains the supreme
fact! The animal is not only
a philosopher, he is a stern
teacher of philosophy. On his

wretched bony back one is
almost forced to learn patience
endurance, self-restraint, and
other stoic virtues. His own
stubborn virtue is incredible.
He carries out his plans with
utter indifference to rider or
"revenque." His walking pace
is funereal, his trot is painful,
and his gallop torture, and he
indulges in either three forms
of exercise just when it suits
him. Unlike the horse, he has
no ambition to keep level with
his mates. Strong language
and hard knocks he placidly
accepts, as he does the broken
boulders in which his feet pass
on unerring and unafraid.

We dismounted about ten
o'clock at the Las Cuevas
Hotel, which, with its out-
houses, is practically the only
human dwelling - place. The
station is the last on the
Argentine side of the Trans-
andine Eailway. A few kilo-
metres farther on the track
suddenly vanishes beneath the
mountains, to reappear on the
Chilean slopes from a tunnel
about two kilometres long.
The hotel is really a kind of
stone fortress against winter
blizzards, and a general store
for the few railway employees
who must face the winter and
spring. The garments in stock
are arctic in nature, and out
of them I chose a thick heavy
poncho for the cold of the
Cumbre. After coffee and
bread we mounted again, and
were soon beginning the climb
proper on the mule path that
is the steepest and shortest
route to the summit. We
could fix our objective by a
big patch of snow lying just

1918.]

At the Heart of the Andes.

109

beneath it. It was now, of
course, that the mule asserted
himself as the king of moun-
tain oarriers. In single file,
up a tortuous and precipitous
path, narrow as a ribbon,
stony always, and treacherous
often, owing to a dry loose
texture, the mules bore us
steadily and patiently, without
apparent weariness or discom-
fort. With well-known per-
versity, they chose the very
edge of the abyss wherever
there was any choice to make,
and one could only keep one's
eyes fixed sideways on the
slope above to avoid the allur-
ing and dizzying slopes below.
The trickiest part of this path
is called the Cuohillo del Dia-
bolo, the Devil's Knife, and
here indeed one is absolutely
at the mercy of one's mule.
The mountain wall is shaped
like a barrel, with the far
depths curving inwards out
of sight, while the track rises
in steep zigzags on the very
outermost circumference of this
uncanny contour. Withal the
ground is loose and crumbling
in the extreme. One stumble
or mistake, and both rider
and mule would certainly, like
Humpty Dumpty, have a great
fall, and the possibility is
forced upon one by the sight
of more than one mule's skele-
ton lying far below. The
creepiest moments are at each
corner of the zigzag, when
the brute, in making the turn,
raises his forefeet so much
higher than his hind ones, and
with such painful deliberation
that the rider feels that he is
just beginning to fall backwards
and downwards for ever.

The Cumbre was reached
and conquered at last, and one
traveller at least felt a thrill
of pride and exhilaration. He
also felt a gale of icy wind
that blew through his thick
poncho as if it had been a
gauze veil and ate into his
very vitals. For this spot,
though only the highest point
of the pass into Chile, and
though, beside the snow-clad
giants that rise on every side,
it is no mountain at all, is
actually approaching 13,000
feet above sea -level, and is
bitingly cold. What it can be
like in winter is perhaps best
gauged by a small rough-
hewn mausoleum of stone which
covers the remains and com-
memorates the bravery of five
postmen, who, while carrying
the mails from Chile, were
frozen to death at this very
spot.

But indeed this Cumbre, so
far from the world of men,
is an open-air sanctuary of
the sublimities. Over its bleak
stony bosom passed the heroic
army of General San Martin
as he led them to victory
against the Spaniards, freeing
first Chile and then Peru from
the hated yoke, and ensuring
for ever the liberty of his
native land. Far down in
Mendoza his gallant deeds
have been made deathless by
a magnificent statue to his
memory. It is an immense
figure of Liberty drawn in a
chariot by dashing horsemen,
and round the huge pedestal
runs a frieze of bronze, wherein
is cut in bas-relief the story
of this bold campaign San
Martin in council with his

110

Argentine Memories. //.

[Jan.

staff, the patriotism of women,
the toil of men, the arduous
conquest of the mountains,
ending with scenes of battle
and of victory. The memorial
has been erected at the nation's
expense, on a hill 1500 feet
high, beautifully laid out and
planted, and approached from
the city by a specially made
road three miles in length.
The hill is known through-
out the Argentine as the Cerro
de la Gloria The Hill of Glory
and any one who stands
13,000 feet high upon the
Cumbre and thinks it out, will
decide that it is a very fitting
name.

One's attention, however, is
drawn more immediately to
something else. The boundary-
line between the Argentine and
Chile runs right along the
summit of this pass, and erected
upon this line is perhaps one of
the most curious memorials in
the world. It is a colossal
statue of Christ the Redeemer.
Cast in bronze, and raised upon
a solid concrete pediment, the
gigantic figure it seems to be
nearly forty feet in height
is designed in loose robes, and
bears aloft in one arm a great
metal cross. The pediment
bears a plaque with the fol-
lowing inscription:

LOS CIBCULOS DE OBREROS
DE LA REPUBLICA ARGENTINA

A CRISTO REDENTOR

FOR LA PAZ DEFINITIVA

ENTRE ARGENTINOSYCHILENOS. 1

1902-1904.

It was designed by an Ar-

gentine sculptor, and commem-
orates the settlement by arbi-
tration of a boundary dispute
which threatened a bitter war
between the two nations. But
the spectator hardly thinks of
that, both touching and pro-
mising though it is. He sees
only the majestic figure of
peace and goodwill, standing
there amidst the silence and
the unspeakable sublimity, far
above the busy haunts of men,
in the very heart of the Andes.
One need be no moralist,
whether pagan or Christian,
to catch the wonder and sig-
nificance of that figure and
that scenery, Man and Nature
alone together, silent together,
and yet both eloquent of things
too high and deep for common
men to speak. One thinks of
the village of Nazareth, so
utterly far away in space and
time, and in a flash the world
becomes a place of miracle and
mystery. Or one dwells vague-
ly upon this symbolic picture
of two great human creeds
God manifest in Man, and God
immanent in Nature, both
made concrete in these lonely
wilds.

But had there been no sym-
bolic statue, no historic glories,
nothing but the scene around,
the Cumbre would yet be hal-
lowed by the grandeur that
girds it on every side. Itself
a high mountain, it is yet
dwarfed beside the towering,
snow-clad peaks and shoulders
of Tupungato, Junoal, Tolosa,
Aconcagua, and others whose
names I know not, every one of

1 " The Workers' Clubs of the Argentine Republic to Christ the Redeemer
for lasting peace between the Argentine and Chilean nations."

1918.]

At the Heart of the Andes.

Ill

them much higher than Mont
Blano, and scattered around in
suoh profusion that the eye has
a feast of unsurpassable glories.
Aoonoagua, the menareh of
them all, is about twenty-four
miles to the north, and through
that distance one can see with
perfect distinctness the snow
drifting in hurricane gusts off
the very summit. Indeed, from
the Cumbre one gets* an excel-
lent view of this famous moun-
tain. About 23,000 feet in
height, it offers the spectacle of
10,000 feet of everlasting snow
and glacier, and this in the
height of a subtropical summer.
One can only realise suoh
heights and feel the terror of
their majesty by first ascend-

ing steadily one hundred and
twelve miles from the plain to
an altitude of 13,000 feet, only
there finding the first patches
of snow, and seeing still far
above him those white giants
of the world.

Indeed, one might be in a
different world altogether. It
is positively hard to imagine
the green familiar earth. Not
the eye of eagle could pierce to
any living plant or thing f
green. Chile, we know, lies there
beneath our feet, and beyond
the great ooean, but all the eye
oan see is towering snow-clad
monsters coming up out of the
void, as if from some horrible
bottomless pit.

P. H. N.

112

[Jan.

H. /L t S.

V. MASCOTS.

WHEN the galleys of Phoenicia, through the gates of Hercules,

Steered South and West along the coast to seek the Tropic Seas,

When they rounded Cape Agulhas, putting out from Table Bay,

They started trading North again, as steamers do to-day.

They dealt in gold and ivory and ostrich feathers too,

With a little private trading by the officers and crew,

Till rounding Guardafui, steering up for Aden town,

The tall Phoenician Captain called the First Lieutenant down.

" By all the Tyrian purple robes that you will never wear,

By the Temples of Zimbabwe, by King Solomon I swear,

The ship is like a stable, like a Carthaginian sty.

I am Captain here confound you ! or I'll know the reason why.

Every sailor in the galley has a monkey or a goat ;

There are parrots in the eyes.of her and serpents in the boat.

By the roaring fire of Baal, I'll not have it any more :

Heave them over by the sunset, or I'll hang you at the fore ! "

" What ia that, sir ? Not as cargo ? Not a bit of private trade ?

Well, of all the dumbest idiots you're the dumbest ever made,

Standing there and looking silly: leave the animals alone."

(Sailors with a tropic liver always have a brutal tone.)

"By the orescent of Astarte, I am not religious yet

I would sooner spill the table salt than kill a sailor's pet."

VI. THE SPARROW.

%

A perfectly calm blue sea, a finding rest for his aching
blazing June sun, and absolutely muscles. Now he was heading
nothing to break the mono- roughly towards his home
tony of a blank horizon. The with but slight hopes f ever
sparrow was dead-beat, and reaching it.
travelling slowly te the north A faint droning neise to the
and west on a zigzag course, north made him turn, and low
about two hundred feet high, over the straight-ruled horizon
The sparrow had no right to fee he saw a silvery- white line that
there at all. He hailed from every moment grew larger. He
a Yorkshire hedgerow, and headed towards it, but at a
nothing but a real three-day mile range swerved away to
fog and westerly winds could pass astern of it. It was not
have brought him over such a an inviting object for even a
waste of waters. He had been lost sparrow to rest on. With
flying in a circle all night, engines running slow so slow-
swerving at intervals down to ly that the blades of the great
the water in the vain hope of propellers could be easily seen

1918.]

with a broad white-and-blaok
ensign flapping lazily below
and astern, the Zeppelin droned
on to the south'ard, a thing of
massive grace and beauty on
such a perfect summer's day.

With a vague idea that
the monster might lead him
home, the sparrow turned and
followed. The Zeppelin slowly
drew ahead and rose higher,
while far to the south, another
monster rose over the skyline,
black against the sun. The
great craft passed each other
and turned away, the first one
heading back to the north
whence he had come, and the
second disappearing to the east,
climbing slowly as he went.

The sparrow turned also and
fluttered and dipped in path-
etic confidence after his first
visitor. The fact of having
seen something, however un-
pleasant and strange - looking,
had given him a new access of
strength, and he was able to
keep the great silver thing
in easy view. Suddenly the
Zeppelin tilted like a hunter
at a high fence, and the note
of his engines rose to a dull
roar. He climbed like well,
like a sparrow coming up
to a house-top and at three
thousand feet he circled at full
power, levelling off his angle,
and showing a turn of speed
which left the frightened bird
gaping.

The sparrow fluttered on
vaguely, passing at 100 feet
above the water, below the
Zeppelin. He had decided that
a pilot who played tricks like
that was no sort of use to him,
and that he had better stick
to his original idea of working

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII.

H.M.S. . 113

to the north and west, however
lonely a course it might be.
He swerved a little at a rush-
ing, whistling noise that came
from above him, and which
grew to a terrifying note. A
big dark object whipped past
him, and a moment later
splashed heavily into the
mirror-like surface below. The
rings made by its impact had
hardly started to widen, when
there was a great convulsion,
and a column of smoky-white
water leapt up behind him,
followed by the roar of an
explosion. The sparrow started
to climb to elimb as he had
never done in his life. Twice
more his weariness forgotten
he was urged to further
efforts to gain height, by the
shook of the great detonations
from the water below. The
Zeppelin was down to a
thousand feet now, swinging
round on a wider circle. Five
hundred feet below, the sparrow
saw a faint streak on the
water which faded at one end
into blue sea, and at the other
narrowed to a little feather of
spray round a dark point that
was travelling like the fin of
some slowly moving fish to the
north-westward. The Zeppelin
saw it too, and came hunting
back along the line. Bang
bang bang ! Great columns
shot up again ahead and
astern of the strange fish, and
away went the sparrow to the
south once more. Any course
was bad in this place, and it
was better to die alone in the
waters than to be pursued by
such a monster of the air. As
he went he heard more and
more detonations behind him,

Ill

until the noise of the droning
engine had died, when he was
again alone over the sparkling
unfriendly sea. The exertions
and alarm of the last hour had
taken the last of his reserve
forces, and in uneven flutter-
ings his flight tended lower
and lower, till he was a bare
twenty feet from what he knew
must be his grave. Then came
a miracle of war. A bare
quarter-mile ahead a thing
like a tapering lance began to
rise and grow from the water.
It was "followed by a grey,
black-lettered tower which also
grew and showed a rounded
grey hull, moving slowly south
with a white band of froth
spinning away astern. A lid
on the tower clanged open, and
two figures appeared. One
raised something to his eye, and
faced south. The other stood
on the rail and pivoted slowly
round, staring at sky and sea.

"I wonder what the deuce
he was bombing bit of wreck-
age, I suppose," said the man
on the rail.

" Well, it wasn't us anyway.
The blind old baby-killer." The
man with the sextant lowered
it and fiddled with the shades.
" Weve got no boats near, have
we, sir?"

"Not for donkeys' miles. I
hope it was a Fritz, anyway.
I say, look at that spadger ! "

"Where? I don't see it.
Stand by. Stop, sir."

"All right, I got you. Here,
catch this watch. That spad-
ger's gone down into the cas-
ing, and he'll drown if we dip
with him there. Look out for
those Zepps. coming back."

The Captain swung quickly

H.M.S. . [Jan.

down the foreside of the con-
ning tower, ran forward and
peered into the casing in the
eyes of the boat.

" Zepp. coming, sir, north
of us, just gone behind a bit
of cloud."

" Zepp. be damned. Ah ! got
you, you little beggar." He
reached his arm into a coil of
wet rope and rose triumph-
antly to his feet. The sparrow
cheeped pitifully as he ran aft
again and took the ladder in
two jumps. He gave a glance
astern and another all round
the horizon before following his
sextant-clutching subordinate
below. The lid clanged, and
with a sigh, a gurgle, and
a flirt of her screws the sub-
marine slid under, the blank
and expressionless eye of her
periscope staring fixedly at an
unconscious but triumphant
Zeppelin that was gliding out
from a fleecy patch of cloud
astern.

"Here you are, Lizzie. Skip-
per said I was to let him go
soon's we got in, but I just
brought 'im to show you.
We've 'ad 'im aboard five days
now, and 'e can't 'alf eat bis-
cuit. 'E's as full as 'e can 'old
now. Open the window, old
girl, and we'll let 'im out afore
I starts 'uggin yer."

The lid of the cap-box opened
wide and the sparrow hopped
to the table. He raised his
cramped wings and fluffed out
his feathers as he felt his
muscles again. There was a
flutter and a flip of his im-
pudent tail, and quicker than
the eye could follow him the
wanderer was gone.

1918.] H.M.S. . 115

VII. "OUR ANNUAL."

Up the well-remembered fairway, past the buoys and forts we

drifted

Saw the houses, roads and churches, as they were a year ago.
Far astern were wars and battles, all the dreary clouds were

lifted,
As we turned the Elbow Ledges felt the engines ease to

"Slow."

Rusty side and dingy paintwork, stripped for war and cleared

for battle
Saw the harbour-tugs around us smelt the English fields

again,
English fields and English hedges sheep and horses, English

cattle,
Like a screen unrolled before us, through the mist of English

rain.

Slowly through the basin entrance twenty thousand tons

a-orawling

With a thousand men aboard her, all a-weary of the War
Warped her round and laid alongside with the cobble-stones

a-oalling
"There's a special train awaiting, just for you to come ashore."

Out again as fell the evening, down the harbour in the gloaming
With the sailors on the fo'c'sle looking wistfully a-lee
Just another year of waiting just another year of roaming
For the Majesty of England for the Freedom of the Sea.

A WAR WEDDING.

Old Bill Dane ? Yes, he's leg and he had a scalp wound,
married now. We got a week's Nothing to write home about,
refitting leave, and I've just but it didn't make any more
been seeing him through it. of a Venus of him when it
Ye es, there was a bit of a healed. They sent us on sick-
hitch when they were engaged, leave, and we stayed with his

but Well, I'll tell you people. His guvnor's the eye

the story. I saw most of it, specialist, you know got a

because I was sort of doing home in town, and keeps the

second for him then too. You smell of iodoform in Harley

see, he and I got it rather in Street, and doesn't let it come

the neck in the August scrap, into the house. We were all

and we came out of hospital right. We led the quiet life,

together. I had a smashed and just pottered around, and

116

saw the shows and so on.
We gave the social life a miss
until Bill's sister let us in.
Bill didn't want to go, but
she put it to me, and as I
was sort of her guest I had
to make him come. Who ?
The sister? Oh! all right,
you know. Don't be a fool,
or I won't tell you the yarn.
Well, she took us poodle-
faking, and it oost me a bit
at Gieves' for new rig too.
It was about our third stunt
that way when Bill got into
trouble. We were at some
bally great house belonging
to a stockbroker or bookie or
some one, and they were doing
fox -trots up and down the
drawing-room, and Bill and I
were rather out of it. I was
lame and he's no dancing man,
unless it's just dressed in a
towel or two to amuse guests
in the wardroom when there's
a bit of table-turning going on.
Some woman came and told
him he'd got to join up, and
took him over to the girl.
She was dressed regular war-
flapper fashion, you know, like
a Bank of Expectation cheque,
except she hadn't got a top-
hat on as some of them had
lately. Most of 'em in the
room were togged out like
that, and Bill and I had just
agreed we didn't go much on
the style at all, but Bill is a
proper lamb about women,
He did one turn of the room
with the girl, dancing a sort
of Northern Union style, and
then she stopped, and he
brought her over to me and
plumped her on the sofa be-
tween us. I think he wanted
to see if I was laughing. She

H.M.S. . [Jan.

started on me at once, and
asked me all about my leg
and Bill's head, and talked
like a Maxim. Asked me if
we were great friends, and
made me laugh. I said we
had only forgathered be-
cause I had beaten him in
the middle - weights in the
Grand Fleet championships,
and though I had never seen
his face before, his left stop
had touched my heart. She
dropped me then she thought
I was pulling her leg and
turned to Bill, and then his
sister took me off to get her
tea. I didn't realise Bill
was getting soft about it till
his sister told me, though the
fact of our going to tea and
dinner at the girl's .home that
week had seemed funny to me
at the time. The sister was
rather pleased about it said
she knew the girl and liked
her. I said I didn't think
much of that sort, but she
smoothed me down a bit. She
thought that they would do
each other good. I said Bill
was such an old lamb he'd
only get sloppy, and do what
the girl told him; but she
laughed. She told me I might
know Jim in the ring, but I
didn't know much about him
otherwise. I was rather shirty
at that, but I think now she
was talking sense, though I
didn't then. Well, Bill can
get quite busy when he makes
his mind up, and the way he
rushed that girl was an educa-
tion to watch. They were en-
gaged in ten days from the
first time we went to her
house, and I don't think we
missed seeing her for more

1918.]

H.M.S.

117

than twelve hours in that
time. I? Oh, I and the sis-
ter were chaperons. I didn't
mind. I was sorry for Bill,
but I wasn't going to spoil
things for him if he was set
on it.

The girl's people were all
right. They were rather the
Society type, you know
thought London was capital
of the world, and that a
Gotha bomb in the West
End ought to mean a new
Commander-in- Chief to relieve
Haig; but they were quite
decent.

The trouble ? Well, I'm com-
ing to that. It came about a
week after they had announced
the engagement. Old Bill had
been getting a bit restive over
things. You see, he had begun
to wonder just where he came
into the business. He wanted
to get the girl off by her
lonesome to a desert island,
and tell her what a peach
she was, for the rest of her
natural life ; but the girl hadn't
got an inkling of what he
thought about it. He was
towed round like a pet bear
and told to enjoy himself,
while people talked over his
head. She was just a kid,
and she didn't know. It
seemed to her that being en-
gaged was good fun, and
getting married was a matter
they could think about later,
when she'd had time to con-
sider it. She was all for the
tango-tea and the latest draw-
ing-room crazes. I didn't feel
enthusiastic about his affairs,
and I told the sister so; but
she laughed about it all. I
didn't. The girl, Hilda her

name was Hilda Conron was
just like a kid with a toy.
She took him around and
showed him off, and she went
on quacking away to all her
pals as if Bill wasn't in the
room. She seemed to take it
for granted he was going to
join up with her crowd and
learn to do the same tricks
and talk the same patter as
they did. Bill certainly tried ;
but they treated him like a
fool, and he told me several
times he felt like one. Well
then, we came to the smash.
Lord, it was a queer show,
and I'd sooner have had my
leg off than have missed it.
We were taken off to a
charity auction, Red Cross or
something, where they sold bits
of A. A. shell with the Gov-
ernment marks on them as
bits of Zepp. bombs, and
Pekinese dogs for a hundred
quid or so. After the sale,
about twenty of the house-
hold and the guests that had
paid most clustered round to
add up the takings and drink
tea and talk. Miss Conron
had been selling things, and
was dressed up to the nines.
There was a bishop there,
and some young staff officers
and some civilians, M.P.'s, or
editors or something like that.
Old Bill was sitting with me
and his sister, looking like a
family lawyer at a funeral,
and the girl was perched on
a sofa with a lanky shop-
walker-looking bloke alongside
her. He was an indispensable
of sorts Secretary to the
Minister of some bloomin' thing
or other. He was the lad, I
tell you, sort of made you

118

H.M.S.

feel you were waiting on the
mat when he talked. He was
laying down the law about
the War and all about it,
and he talked like all the
Angels at a Peaoe Conference.
But it was the bishop that
put his foot in the mulli-
gatawny first. He agreed
with the smooth-haired draper-
man about the need of peace,
but he said we should see
that Germany provided suit-
able reparation for Belgium.
Bill sat up and got red and .
stuttered, and said: "I don't
think Germany or anybody oan
give Belgium baok what she has
lost."

They all looked at Bill as if
he had just dawned on them,
and Bill looked more foolish.
The draper -man shipped an
eye-glass and looked him over
like a new specimen. " Ah ! "
he said, "our naval friend?
perhaps you will tell us in what
way you consider the War can
be ended before the world
comes to economic ruin. Must
we wait until you have had
your fill of fighting or have de-
stroyed the High Sea Fleet ? "

Bill stood up and stopped
looking silly. Miss Dane leaned
baok in her chair, and I heard
her sigh as if she was pleased
about something.

"Never mind the High Sea
Fleet," said Bill. " That's not
your business to worry about.
But as to 'fill of fighting,'
you've said it there. When
we've had our fill of fighting
Germany will have had more,
but we're a long way from that
yet."

The long stiff turned to Miss
Conron. "Why, little Miss

. [Jan.

Hilda," he said, "your fiance
is charming. He should speak
in the Park on Sundays and
we would all come to listen."

The girl got red and looked
daggers at Bill. She didn't
like his making a fool of him-
self, and she wanted him back
in his chair again. The long
man put a hand on her knee
and spoke quietly to her, and
she shook her head at him and
laughed. That did it. My
oath ! that did it all right.
Bill shrugged his shoulders
baok and took station in the
outer ring of draper -wor-
shippers, and spoke like a a
Demosthenes.

"You blank, blank, blank,"
he said, " get off that sofa
and get away from Miss
Conron."

The Bishop looked as if the
end of the world had come and
he was adrift with his cash
accounts. The staff officers
looked blank and the women
got soary. I got up and took
station on Bill's quarter in case
any one got excited. The long
man put up his glass again and
showed symptoms of an ap-
proaching oration.

"You stay then, you half-
breed dog," said Bill; "I'm
going to talk to you." Bill
put his hands in his coat
pockets and looked around.
"Now listen," he said; "I'm
talking for a lot of men who
aren't here. Were fighting
this show, and there are some
millions of us. Who are you
to talk of War or Peace ? By
God, if you try and pack up
we'll put you to work again. If
you're going to compromise with
Germany, we won't. Have you

1918.

H.M.S.

119

forgotten what the Germans
oan do ? My oath, you make
me siok. What oan it matter
if the nations are all broken
and rained so long as we smash
Germany? We don't want
money and luxuries to fight on.
Give us food and munitions till
we have done what we started
to do. You whining people
what do you know of it ? Have
you got no guts at all ? Have
you read the Bryoe Report?
Yes ; I bet you have, and
looked it away so that your
women shouldn't see it. I tell
you, it doesn't matter to us,
and we're about four million
men, if we are all killed so long
as we kill eight million Huns.
I know a sergeant who has
killed five Prussian officers, and
I think he's a real man, not
like you. He took to it after
he saw a five-year-old girl with
her hands out off hanging like
a suoking-pig on a meat-hook
in a wrecked French village.
Doesn't that make you feel it ?
I fcell you, if you play the fool
behind our backs we'll take
charge of you. Yes, Bishop,
you'll keep up the good work
in a munition factory, and
you'll work hard too. If you
can't be a patriot now, you will
be when you've been caned
across your lathe."

They were as still as mice,
and the rumble of traffic along
Piccadilly sounded very loud.
Miss Conron was as white as a
sheet, and her eyes were staring
as if she was soared to death.
Bill took a long breath and
went on

"I've tried to see your
point of view while I've been
among you, and I can't. I'm

going to leave you and get back
to my own lot. I'm giving up
something I didn't think I
could give up, but I won't join
you just to get it. There are
not so many of us as there are
of you, but you'll do what you're
told if we take charge. Most
of us have seen dead men and
some of us have seen dead
women. None of you have
seen either, and you don't un-
derstand. You want to hide
things away and pretend
they're not there. They are
there, and they are going on
wherever the Germans are, you
fools. There's a man here who
has been impertinent to me
because he thinks I'm a fool.
I'm a better man than any six
of his sort, and I'm going to
show him how. It will do the
rest of you good to watch, be-
cause you haven't seen death
yet, and a man with a bruise
or two will seem a big thing to
you. Come along, my sofa-
king, you're for it."

Bill walked up to him with
his hands down and the women
began to squeal. The draper-
man was game. He took a
step forward and swung his
right. Bill hooked him under
the chin and gave him the
left in the stomach. The
poor beggar backed off, taking
a wicked upper-cut as he did so.
As he straightened again Bill
sent a couple of full swings to
his head. He was going down,
but Bill wouldn't let him. I
think if he hadn't been so clever
with Miss Conron on the sofa he
would have got off fairly cheap,
but a girl makes a lot of differ-
ence to any scrap. He took
about six more before he hit

120

the deck, and then he looked
like a Belgian atrocity picture
by Raemaekers. Bill came over
to me and signalled his sister
to the door. She moved off.
My oath, she hadn't turned a
hair she's a sportsman. He
looked across at Miss Conron,
who was still on the sofa
looking at the huddled figure
in the middle of the carpet.
11 I'm going now, Hilda," he
said; "your people aren't my
people. I'm sorry."

She never moved, but the
colour had come back into her
face again. Bill shrugged back
his shoulders and turned his
back, and we started for the
door. Miss Dane was there,
holding the handle and look-
ing past us at the horrified
group we had left. As we got
almost up to her she smiled
and came to Bill. She took

H.M.S. . [Jan.

him by the shoulders and
turned him round, and I turned
to see what she was looking
at. Miss Conron was walking
that sixty-foot plank after us,
and I knew when I saw her
face that she and Bill were
going to be all right. She
didn't say anything, and the
four of us went out, and Bill
kissed her in the hall in front
of the servants. Trouble ? No
not much. You see, Bill had
had a scalp wound, and they
put it all down to that. The
draper -man didn't want to
publish things much, and Miss
Conron's father has got a bit
of a pull. If he had no kick
coming other people could
shut up, and oh yes ! Sound
as a bell he wouldn't have
got married otherwise. But,
by gum, his sister was right
wasn't she ?

KLAXON.

1918.]

121

MOUNTAINS, FLOWERS, AND WAR.

BY EDMUND CANDLEE.

THE more one saw of Meso-
potamia, the more one longed
for flowers and green shade.
Daring all the fighting and
waiting from Sheikh Saad to
Shumran, during all the shiver-
ing in the mud and sweltering
in the sun and digging down
to escape the hot flying dust,
north by east of us there
stood the bold flank of the
Pusht-i-Kuh, snow-capped from
the winter rains to the first
week in May, and luring us
with their deep gorges opening
on to the plain. Up there one
knew there must be flowers
and meadows and trees, and a
favourite topic in the Sannai-
yat trenches in the hot weather
was the hill-station we were
going to build in the Pusht-i-
Kuh after the war. I once
skirted the range in an aero-
plane near enough to see the
sorub oak. My pilot was a keen
mountaineer, and we were both
oonsumedly home-sick after this
glimpse of our desires when we
flew back to the dull, monoton-
ous dead flat by the Tigris.

It was borne in on us more
than once in Mesopotamia that
altitude is life. When we left
the baked deltaic mud, where
for hundreds of square miles
there is not a pebble, or a tree
save the unsatisfying date-
palm, and entered the low foot-
hills less than a thousand feet
above sea -level, we came to
flowers. I was with the Jebel
Hamrin Column that went to
meet the Cossacks on the Per-
sian borderland. The streams

were white with water-butter-
cup, and their banks starred
with English flowers. As the
vicious little shrapnel burst
over us I felt the senselessness
of war more than I had done
for a whole year. In these iris-
fields I had almost forgotten
we were fighting. The great
objective had been grasped
and left behind. None of us
could have felt very warlike.
A blue sky, willows, a running
stream, an English spring,
banks bright with charlock,
buttercups, clover, veronica,
pimpernel, scarlet anemones
glowing through the grass;
beyond the stream a plain roll-
ing up to a scalloped ridge of
rock ; beyond this again, forty
miles or more, the snows, and
every promise of a flowering
undulating country in between.
It seemed hard on our men to
have to go on attacking en-
trenched positions after a lull
like this. War carried out of
the accursed dead plain, where
it had become a normal kind of
hell, into this green spot, seemed
less a phase, more an eternal
fact, than ever.

I had not seen flowers since
May 1916, when in the lull after
the fall of Kut I wandered up
the Karun river to Ahwaz,
Maidan-i-Napthun,and Shuster.
This district is reputed even by
the Persians to be one of the
most scorching fire-pits in Asia.
Yet at the end of May in the
ravines of the sweeping down-
land under the Bakhtiari hills,
the purple teazle, rows of fine

122

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

[Jan,

up -standing hollyhocks, and
the magnificent spear - thistle
were still flowering at 500 feet.
Six weeks earlier the grass had
been studded with narcissus,
crocus, and anemone. We had
left the deadness of the dun-
coloured plain behind. Iguanas
of all colours scurried through
the grass in front of us, some
of them red - throated as a
pheasant. On the northern
face of the Tul-i-Khayyat,
where the ridge falls away to
the Lehbarri plain in a series of
platforms, like tiers in an am-
phitheatre, we found larkspur,
rocket, mullein, mignonette,
scabious, salvia, convolvulus,
borage, and the homely yarrow.
It was not a question of lati-
tude, for we were no farther
north than Sheikh Saad, or
of temperature, for the thermo-
meter rose higher ; it was mere
soil and elevation, and the
little respite the shade of a
cliff gives a plant in a day of
fourteen hours of burning sun.
Yet we were not a thousand
feet above the sea. A little
altitude is a great blessing, and
any virtue one may have found
in hills in peace-time

Is doubled and doubled and doubled

again,
And squared and raised to the power

of "n,"

for those who have passed
eighteen months in the plains
of Mesopotamia.

Leave rules are generous
in Force "D." In the hot
weather most of us get off by
relays to India, and of course
one makes straight for the
hills. One has a full month,
and sometimes a few days
thrown in, between disembark-
ing and embarking at Bombay.

After Mesopotamia the joys of
civilisation are sweet. Even a
train journey across the plains
in July is delightful; and no
one who knows Kashmir
grudges the fifty- one hours by
rail to Rawal Pindi. The
motor run of 160 miles through
Murree and up the Jhelum
valley to Baramula is good;
and when one wakes up in the
morning in a butter cup -field
and mounts one's pony and
turns his head up the bridle-
path to Baramula, one recap-
tures the thrill one had as a boy
on the first day of the holidays
after the first term at school.

The air is fresh and cool.
One rides over the low plateau
up into the firs and cedars,
dips again to a stream, and up
by a path like a steep English
lane, where the wild roses fling
their scent across the road.
Then again to meadows and
fields and villages where the
walnuts and ohenars throw a
generous shade. After a hue-
less land of offence and nega-
tion it is difficult to say
whether colour or smell, or
shadow or oooltb, or the com-
ing back to long - forbidden
familiar things pleases most.
One is most sensible to the
freshness of everything. It is
the gentleness and sympathy
in the touch of the mountain
air that begets all the rest
the life, the colour, the green
shade, the sweet smells. Where
this gentleness is not, as in
Mesopotamia, there is death.
Delicacy of colour and form
and texture is born of it. In
the flax-field by the side of the
road you will find the gamut
of blue in the flax and the
borage, both flowers that steep

1918.]

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

123

themselves in the sun, the
lightest, clearest, filmiest blue
of the iris of a young girl's eyes
and the darkest blue of cobalt
merging into purple. And the
suooory grows at the edge of
the field as at home, nature's
stock blue, the primal elemental
blue, spread everywhere as it
should be in the image of stars,
colour and form, like youth and
beauty in one mould.

I have often thanked God
that I had a nodding unscien-
tific acquaintance with plants
as a boy, enough to tell the
family of a flower at a glance
without counting the stamens
or dissecting it with a knife.
This means that one finds old
friends in mountains and
meadows and woods all over
the world, and one is never
bored on a journey. At every
step pleasant images and mem-
ories rise, conjured up by
shapes and smells. In half an
hour on a Himalayan path one
lives through many incarna-
tions. Here is the pink lychnis
that used to grow on the bank
over the pool where one learnt to
swim ; the white dianthus that
one found on the cliff where
one first saw the sea ; the yel-
low agrimony that grew behind
the cricket-field wall at school
when strawberries were ripe.
One is greeted by small obscure
flowers that one has forgotten
for years, and meets again
with a feeling like remorse
the dwarf willow-herb, the way-
side verbena, the enchanter's
nightshade, and that pleasant
prim flower with the prim
name, Prunella Vulgaris or self-
heal, which used to cover the
path in a certain wood that
led to a house of delight.

Soon the warmth has drawn
out the smell of resin in the
pine. Higher up in a clearing
in the forest I dismounted and
rolled on a bank of thyme with
all the zest of a pony or an ass
thyme

" That smells like dawn in Paradise."

I hoped the many thousands
who had " gone west " in
France and Mesopotamia were
smelling it ; for Paradise, if it
is to be satisfying, must be
earthy at least in its flowers
and smells. There must be
wallflowers and willow - herb
and thyme and meadowsweet
in the Elysian fields; for these
we could well spare "the am-
pler ether," "the diviner air,"
"the more pellucid streams."
Plants of new design, un-
familiar hues and scents, with
no grateful associations re-
miniscent of earth, can only
live in a bad dream of Para-
dise. They could not proceed
from the God who fashioned
the primrose and the wood-
sorrel. If one believed in a
divinity so dull to his good
works one would be more
afraid to die. For there can
be nothing in the next incar-
nation half so good as the
smell of hot thyme or the reek
of a hay field in this.

It caused some amusement
among my friends in Gulmarg
that a man released from Meso-
potamia, with the comforts of
civilisation spread before him,
should choose to go off into the
wilderness and live in tents.
But I met old friends who were
starting on a trek in the Pir
Panjal, and we carried a fair
share of civilised comforts with
us. Gulmarg lies in a cup and

124

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

[Jan.

is divested of flowers. The
marg itself is deformed ; all of
it that is not reserved for golf
is covered with a warren of
huts scattered haphazard like
goods-sheds in a station siding.
The place reminded me of
Gnatong in Sikkhim after
military occupation. Yet if you
go to the edge of the cup and
look over you will see the best
of Kashmir. The station does
not spoil the Pir Panjal, for it
is only a caravanserai, and there
is little danger of it spreading.
In half an hour's walk you have
left it behind. In the whole
of the range from the Banihal
pass to the Jhelum river there
is not another bazaar or village
on the marg level.

Mountain-lovers, who are not
mountaineers, will return again
and again to the Pir Panjal.
It is the one range in the
Himalayas where the mountain
slopes are not always on end,
where one can gallop over
downs of close-bitten turf and
through forest glades. The
margs, or meadows, lie on the
northern side open plots with
a margin of trees through which
one can look down on the
golden valley of Kashmir.
Biding through the dark forest
one enters a clear marshy space
of emerald green, the colour of
seedling rice, often with a bright
pool in it cumbered by fallen
and rotting trees. The marg
is sometimes a little garden, an
acre or less, walled by pines;
sometimes a stretch of a mile
or two of open rolling down,
covered with thyme and
marjoram and eyebright. No-
body understands why the for-
est leaves these glades alone
and does not encroach. In the

summer the Goojars or herds-
men, gentle goatlike men with
ape-like ears, drive their sheep
and cattle up to graze from
May to September, ascending
or descending to different alti-
tudes as the sun or snow
compels them. In most of the
large margs one comes across
their low huts of horizontal
pine logs rudely laid one upon
the other. These are deserted
in the winter. Half the charm
of camping in the range is that
there are no recognised bridle-
paths or stages. The Goojars
only know their own grazing
grounds, and they will guide
you from one to another, point-
ing out the fords in the grey-
bouldered beds of the torrents
where the rooks have been
moved aside to give their herds
a passage. This makes for
desultory travel. One may
start with half a dozen different
objectives. If the weather
holds, one is drawn up to the
ndgs or mountain tarns, or the
jagged crest of the range where
there are peaks for mountain-
eers, Tatakuti or the Darhwal
Dome topping 15,500 feet. If
one runs into persistent rain,
one ean plunge down into the
plateaux of the Jhelum valley
below the forest and the margs.
Here one can generally count
on sunshine and the delights
of the most purely pastoral
country in the Himalayas.

My own bent after the Tigris
valley was pastoral, but the
lady who had instigated the
trek was for ascending. Alpine
flowers were her hobby, and I
was content. The husband was
all for easy stages. He ad-
mitted to me that he would
have given ten pounds to be

1918.]

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

125

quit of the whole affair. Holi-
day and peace of mind to him
meant golf and bridge and the
daily newspaper interspersed
with hia particular research.
Once a year he martyrised him-
self by going camping with his
wife, who had the soul of an
explorer. He always swore that
he would not do it again, and
she always swore that she
would not have him. But their
ways were undivided. The
fourth member of the party fell
through.

On the first day of our
travels the sun shone. We left
Gulmarg to the west, descend-
ing 2000 feet into the valley
of the Ferozepore stream among
larkspur and mallow and warm-
soented scabious. The path
beyond led up through forest
margs, rounded a spur, and
emerged on the high sweeping
downs that fall away from the
main wall of the range. As
we ascended, the whole forest,
from 7000 to 9000 feet, was
knee-deep in Jacob's Ladder, as
blue a carpet as the wild
hyacinths

"That seem the heavens upbreaking
through the earth,"

but a lighter, more cerulean
blue.

The man was for camping
by a ruined tower, an ancient
robbers' stronghold, whence one
could look down on these azure
fields and through the pines
on to the plain. He had a
great sympathy with the camp-
followers, the servants and
pony-men who abhor altitude,
and to whose interest it is to
halve stages. He was for
heading for the valley, she for
the hills. Having come to an

attractive spot he was for
pitching camp. " What could
be better than this ? " he called
out to Diana. " A lovely little
marg ! your hard-driven slaves
are tired." And he pointed
out to her professorially the
beauties of nature for which
she had left a comfortable
home, that golden hummock
of buttercups it was really
ragwort under the dark firs,
the long row of sentinel mullein
he called it yellow foxglove
ranging down the cliff to the
stream. No one who oared
about flowers, he argued, could
leave the spot for the uncertain
beauties beyond. And it was
such a good vantage-ground
for retreat if it rained. We
had left Gulmarg, the Club,
the hotel, only one short march
behind.

Here the Goojars, observing
a weakness in the will-to-pro-
gress of the party, came up
and protested that beyond this
spot there was no grass, no
wood, no traek, that other
Sahibs had camped here, and
that if we went on the ponies
would all die. To which Diana
in her buckskins made suit-
able reply. A little argument,
a little coaxing, some delicate
reproof, a few contemptuous
words to the men; then she
mounted and whipped her
pony over the next knoll, down
the dip, across the level plain
and up the incline. Here she
waited and watched under the
mast pines for the first signs
of the movement she had
kindled. Soon Azizeh, the
tiffin - basket coolie, clad in
faded indigo, would appear
over the rise, followed by the
man with the lamps, and the

126

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

[Jan.

toothless Ancient of Days with
his staff, and his look of cen-
turies of slow resigned move-
ment, imposed by some law
which he was too gentle to
resist. The caravan would
slowly drag out its length
again, tents and bedding, sky-
pointing tables and chairs,
valises, kerosene-oil tins, pots
and pans, the husband some-
where among them planting
the point of his Khud stick in
the turf with each deliberate
step, moving a little less re-
signedly than the Ancient of
Days. He always yielded if
there were a patch of blue, or
a ray of sun. His dallyings
were only moves in the game,
the assertion of a philosophy
to which he must be consistent
in spirit even if he had
abandoned it in fact. And so
in a spirit of perverse banter
he would coddle a malingerer,
giving him his horse to ride,
and listened with assumed
credulity to the pretexts of the
pony -men. Yet every evening
by six o'clock the woman had
pitched her camp where she
intended, or not far short of
it; and the man, once seden-
tary, was reconciled.

The first night out of Gul-
marg we camped in the Vehinar
marg among the junipers.
Each low isolated patch was
a flower-bed, bright with the
purple spires of monkshood,
the lovely white drooping col-
umbine, the bluey-grey codon-
opsis, the branching yellow
inula ; the grey rock-beds of
the little streams were avenues
of the pink and red polygonum,
and the thyme and eyebright
disputed the turf. At sunset
Diana and I were drawn up

the slope to the edge of the
mountain a mile to the north,
and looked over. The whole
valley of Kashmir was bathed
in opal and amber and gold.
But it was only for a few
moments. The powers of dark-
ness were getting the upper
hand. The glow of silver on
the Woolar lake under Hara-
mokh faded to a dull lead.
Soon " the purpureal gleams "
of Erebus had dispossessed all
light, and the thick blanket of
cloud that had wrought the
transformation was almost on
our heads. We hurried back
to the camp, little knowing
that we had witnessed the last
innings of the sun for five days.

By the camp fire, which the
rain had not extinguished, we
found the man happily smok-
ing. He was always happy
when the question of locomo-
tion was in abeyance, and he
entertained us till late in the
night with a flow of good talk.
Antiquarian, socialist, educa-
tionalist, economist, steeped in
the Classics, yet a contemner
of our public schools, he carried
an encyclopaedia in his head
that would have weighed down
another pack-pony if we had
brought it in volume form.
His wisdom was borrowed from
life and contact with men as
much as from books; and
though an analyist of human
nature, he was more in love
with Psyche than psychology.
He found neither in the moun-
tains, and our talk generally
wandered far from the Pir
Panjal.

The next day we crossed the
Krag Nangal Pass in rain and
camped in Toshmaidan. On
the third morning the clouds

1918.]

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

127

were thick and lowering after
heavy rain all night, but at
ten o'clock the sun had light-
ened and almost penetrated the
mist. We decided to go on, but
it was twelve before themen had
struck tents and caught and
loaded the ponies. A tall, dark,
inarticulate Goo jar of Tosh-
maidan, without a word of Hin-
dustani, guided us up to a sort
of tunnel under the clouds
which we understood was the
pass. The other side of this
range, the main backbone of
the Pir Panjal, there are a
number of unvisited or rarely
visited lakes, which Diana was
anxious to explore. They ap-
pealed to her imagination, to
her sense of adventure; they
were the haunts of romance,
the habitat of rare Alpine
flowers, of late primulas and
creamy saxifrage, of the blue
oorydalis, and the great blue
prickly poppy, which stands
out of the rooks like a human
figure visible across the valley.
But the man oared nothing for
wild vegetation. Even under
a blue sky he preferred to
imagine the poppies; on this
grey morning his attitude
was of a parent dutifully es-
corting a child to some display
that left him cold. The higher
we went, the farther we left
loveliness behind, and the
gloomier was his spirit. My
sympathies were divided. I
had seen enough of desolation.
It was not savagery in nature
that I craved now. For two
years I had been longing for
the hills, but pastoral hills
with flowers and grass and
shadow of maple and scent of
pine not this naked play-
ground of the elements. Yet

I remembered the fascination
of high altitudes. Diana, com-
ing straight out of civilisation,
desired the starkness that had
once attracted me more than
grass lands or forest; and I
was with her in her feeling
that this obstinate buttress of
matter must be defeated at all
costs. It requires courage in
man or woman to turn one's
back on a pass when one has
set one's face to it.

As we got into the clouds
out of the soaking drizzle, we
entered a solid wall of rain.
Our tents and bedding were
sodden : the fuel we had taken
up was barely enough for cook-
ing, and we were to camp above
the juniper limit. Everything
pointed to a persistent tide of
the monsoon. Nevertheless,
Diana rode on with a rapt
look in her face, happy in the
capitulation of the body to the
spirit. We waited for the
husband under a rook, which
instead of sheltering us con-
spired with the rain in a deluge
of waterspouts. Soon he ap-
peared out of the mist. He
was unconscious of any chal-
lenge. The pass for him was
merely a passage from bad to
worse for the "hell" of his
imagination was a cold and wet
hell, a stony, misty, cheerless
hell, in which one was always
slipping or ascending. He
faced Diana and asked her in
tones charged with emotion to
defend her philosophy. Was
it flowers she sought? She
had left them behind. Was it
scenery? You would get as
good a view if you put your
head into a pail of smoke and
water. Was it rheumatism or
pneumonia? Here the camp

128

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

[Jan.

arrived, and added their moans
to his declamation. Azizeh de-
clared that only yesterday a
man had died on the pass.

Diana said little. Her point
of view was that if you were
out for a thing you had to take
the bad with the good; to-
morrow might be fine. Her
small and delicate body, poised
in the saddle as she leant
against the wind searching
vainly for some physical argu-
ment to back her moral one,
implied a lack of sporting
instinct in the man who took
his thwaokings so badly. But
this was illogical. The man's
mind pivoted on the dry rook
of common-sense ; the question
of victory or defeat had not
entered his head; it was a
question of an existence of
relative sanity below the
clouds, or a week in hell for
fourteen human beings and as
many beasts. Suddenly Diana
yielded to his misery rather
than his persuasion. Where-
upon the man became the spur,
fearing her after-scorn. He
swore by the gods that he
would "stick it out," that he
would go on and "see it
through." But the woman
swung her pony's head down-
hill. In a moment she was
descending, he ascending and
crying out " I am going on. I
am going on." I stood between.

My sympathies were with
Diana. It was hard on her
that she had not been born a
boy; she looked one; in her
breeches she reminded me of
half a dozen young subalterns
that I knew. Her relations,
men and women, had shot,
wandered, collected, and
climbed all over the world

yet for eleven months in the
year her business was with
babies. As the man's voice
became fainter in the mist I
feared a permanent breach, but
I knew neither her nor him,
nor the foundations on which
this frail superstructure of
antagonism was built.

Diana consenting, I mounted
and pursued the man, but he
would not return at first,
thinking that I was her
messenger and accomplice, and
playing a part. He pictured
the ghost of Diana's thwarted
desires sitting between them
at meals in after years. But
I repeated his own sentiments
which I now shared with
such conviction that he warmed
to me. The excelsior business,
we agreed, was insanity. These
monsoon currents generally
lasted ten days. Especially do
they dog one with a persistent
hate, after a long unnatural
interval of calm such as we
had enjoyed in the July of
1917. We should not be able
to see a yard in front of our
faces, or to warm or dry our-
selves at night; and the men
would grouse all the while,
and probably die or go sick
out of spite. If it were Lhasa
or Mecca, or Rima or Bagh-
dad, or the Brahmaputra falls,
it might be worth it, but a
few dirty little lakes a bare
three marches from Gulmarg !
Thus basely did I profane
Diana's Elysian fields behind
her back.

So we descended, and to our
joy the clouds rolled down
behind us in pursuit, gathering
in volume. If there had been
any break or truce in them
during the next few days, it

1918.]

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

129

would have been an irony that
two of us oould ill have borne.

In the evening we were
camped on a spur between two
margs, where the roots of the
pines gave us dry ground. We
kept an enormous fire blazing
in the shade, where we oould
warm ourselves and dry our
tents, and beds, and clothes.
The smoke, a little bluer than
the mist, hung over the
Goo jars' oamp in the dip to
the left, where they were cook-
ing their meal on the yellow
ragwort oarpet. The rain
ceased to pelt, but above and
below us we oould watch the
sallies and hesitations of the
storm and the clouds. A torrent
thundered on our right, for a
long time concealed until the
curtain lifted slowly, unveiling
the forest and the marg above
it where the round patches of
jumper recalled the dark-green
house-leek growing on grey
liohened tiles. The clouds rose
higher, until a section of the
main range was exposed under
an arch of sky. We saw that
we were camped under Tata-
kuti (15,500 feet), a bold rook
peak with a single band of
snow bisecting it under a pro-
tecting buttress. For a mo-
ment we had a suspicion that
it was going to clear, but the
curtain fell again, rolling down
the hill with a stage-like final-
ity that reassured us. Far
away to the north and east
over the valley of Kashmir
there was a sunlit patch of
sky, which broadened and
glittered and called us down
to the plain. As it grew
dark Diana and I watched
the mountains anxiously and
VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVII.

looked up at the bank of
clouds, fearing a break in the
grey. So long as the sullen
canopy was spread over the
hills, we knew that it had
been God's veto and not the
man's.

The night was still and
heavy, but rainless. The
sweet homely scent of wet
elder entered our tents. The
pines pierced the black roof
of the sky over the oamp
fire, beautiful mysterious dark
columns merging into a vaguer
blackness. We boiled our
coffee, and smoked our pipes
and cigarette, and basked in
the blaze. The man and I
talked. He told me some of
his spiritual adventures. He
too had been a wanderer, not
in the mountains but in cities
and plains in Turkey, Italy,
and Greece, and the isles of
the ^Egean unearthing an-
tiquities, deciphering manu-
scripts, checking the inaccu-
racies of Strabo in Anatolia,
a guest of the monks at
Athos, reviling the declivity
and the fleas. Oreophobia
was a disease with him. The
mountains were for animals,
he said ; he liked his flowers
tame ; and there was a dearth
of interest in ground uncon-
seorated by man. Above all,
he hated gradients that would
not submit to wheels. The
woman spoke once or twice,
addressing him as "As-is-
easier," her adaptation in the
comparative degree of the
name of Azizeh, the tiffin-
coolie, who always chose the
easier part. The man ad-
mitted a common Horatian
sentiment shared with this

130

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

[Jan.

philosopher. "Video meliora
proboque," he quoted, "dete-
riora sequor." Diana doubted
the seeing and approving of
either; the downhill bias, she
thought, was very apt. She
quoted " The Grammarian's
Funeral." Eaoh was the com-
plement of the other, so there
oould be no rift.

The talk veered back to
Athos, and thenoe to fleas,
the man was sent to see that
the pony-men had not put the
paok-saddles under her bed,
Greek fleas, Kashmir fleas,
Greek and Kashmir wine,
Greek degeneracy, the beauty
of Greek and Kashmir women,
the beauty of women in Gul-
marg. Diana was silent, but
palpably happy and reconciled.
When at midnight she turned
into her tent she scanned the
heavens and murmured thank-
fully, "Not a star."

In spite of our investment
by the clouds we enjoyed life
in our camp on the ridge
between the two margs. I
was content, because we were
camping in a eool green place
thousands of miles from the
desert, and the smell of a pine-
wood fire invaded my tent.
The man was happy because
he had his books and he had
not got to move, and Diana
was happy because she had
found some rare orchids and
lousewort under the pines and
had painted half a dozen
unfamiliar species into her
Himalayan diary, which had
reached its fifth volume, and
which was made up of illus-
trations with nothing written
in it except the names of the
flowers and when and where

they grew. She had the
necessary love and cunning
for this work, and each of
her volumes was worth fifty
collections of dead plants.

But after two days and
nights in the mist we plunged
like sun-worshippers down the
mountain-side on to the plateau
a thousand feet above the
Jhelum valley, where the vil-
lages nestle in the folded bases
of the hills embowered in trees,
where every stream is a wil-
low avenue and most garden
walls a screen of slender white
poplars, where brooks race
through flowery meadows and
the edges of the fields are
borders of balsam, larkspur,
and scabious. We came down
through the forest into English
flowers and English summer
weather, into a clime where
neither the sun nor the clouds
had it all their own way, but
where, as in Davidson's poem,
the sun was adventurous, and
the clouds scattered largesses
of rain, and the generous issue
of it was seen in the trees and
crops and flowers.

The villages we came to,
lying mostly in the dips of
the plateau on the banks of
streams, are not on a path
that leads anywhere. One
would only enter them, flying
from the hills as we did, plung-
ing down into the plain by any
haphazard route. Our sudden
appearance sent the children
flying into the corn ; the
women took cover, or hid their
faces ; the men regarded us as
a passing show. The whole
country was fat and fruitful.
There were orchards and little
water - mills everywhere. In
many of the villages there

1918.]

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

131

were Ziarats, or graves of
Muhammadan saints, often a
simple hummock in a stone
enclosure like a pound, shad-
owed by a great ohenar with
a heronry in its boughs and a
jackdaw's nest in its bole;
sometimes a two-storied house,
with fretted and painted win-
dows, and hanging eaves also
fretted, the upper floor cleared
for prayer, and the roof a
garden of irises, as are all
flat roofs in Kashmir. The
villagers' houses have the roofs
of English barns. They are the
most purely pastoral houses I
know half granary, half byre,
two- or three - storied. The
third, and sometimes the second
storey, supported by beams and
pillars of brick, reveal the
hoarded gleanings of the year
stored in gigantic AH Baba
jars of fireclay, seven feet
high, reaching from the floor
almost to the ceiling. The
storey below the fowls share
with the husbandman, the
wife, the distaff, the teeming
progeny; and under them, on
the ground floor, are the cows.
These high thatched roofs, with
their open lofts and granaries,
are visible for miles among the
generous spreading ohenars.

The country was so rich and
flowery and fruitful that even
Diana, who had come out to
conquer solitudes, was content.
The man fell under the spell of
ordered, communal life. He
pointed to pumpkins and crops
and a row of hollyhocks in a
village, flowers that had been
planted with intention by the
owner of the house. Diana
smiled at his awakened in-
terest in plants, at his prefer-
ence for the man-fed product.

" I believe you'd prefer a
pumpkin to a gentian," she
said.

The man defended the claims
of the pumpkin with Aristo-
telian logic. He admitted that
the gentian was a stranger to
him, but he made a good case
for the vegetable. Then he
said that he liked wild flowers,
but that " it spoilt them know-
ing their names," and Diana
and I were down on him like
a ton of bricks. A lover of
flowers, yet not interested in
them enough to distinguish
their names ! A man who
was content with humanity in
the bulk might as well call
himself a lover of people.

Flowers, Diana argued, like
people, are endeared to us by
their ways, their oddities, their
personalities, their habits. It
is impossible to enjoy them
without knowing their names.
She pointed to a meadow by
a stream. " Just flowers," she
remarked scornfully. " A
pleasing blotch of colour to
the eye. No soul OP indi-
viduality in them."

The man repeated that he
was content with the general
effect. It was "distinctly de-
corative." To him all the
associations of texture, touch,
habit, fragrance went for
nothing. Diana, as she rode
past, was aware of the downi-
ness of the mullein, the musk-
like smell that dwells in the
stalk of the giant inula and
issues like a protest if you
bruise it, the virginal shrink-
ing delicacy in flower and
seed of the balsam the seed
that will spring from you like
a grasshopper at the lightest
touch of the finger. The smell

132

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

[Jan.

and touch of these flowers
afforded her delightful intim-
acies. The man saw the yellow
mass of buttercups, potentil,
St John's -wort, as one sees
humanity in a crowd, unin-
dividualised, whether brown,
white, or yellow. Diana could
tell at a hundred yards that
the buttercup which chose
that particularly marshy soil
by the stream would be very
erect, and would have spear-
shaped leaves growing up the
stalk, unlike other buttercups ;
she knew that if she held up
the St John's -wort to the
sky she would see the blue
through a thousand little per-
forations in the leaf, only if
the stalk were square and not
round, the leaf would be
opaque; and she knew the
ways of the scarlet potentilla
(Nepalensis), the loveliest eye
in the meadow, which has
shades one finds in the raiment
of saints in stained-glass win-
dows, and sometimes in the
skirt of a Kashmiri woman,
but rarely in other flowers.
She picked one with white at
the base of the petals. This
she knew was only an expres-
sion of individual mood, and
had nothing to do with fam-
ilies or species. "Just like
Nepalensis."

Diana returned to the
analogy of flowers and people.
Fancy going through life and
thinking of men and women,
if one thought of them separ-
ately at all, by a vague de-
scriptive formula. " You don't
want to know their names,"
she said to the man. "You
might say the same about
people and pretend you oared

for them. Besides, the names
themselves are beautiful." And
she reminded him of an early
infatuation. "Fancy, if you
wanted to recall Daphne,
speaking of her as ' that
plump girl with the engaging
freckles and the corn- coloured
hair that I took into dinner
at X's!'"

All day long the truth of
Diana's argument was borne
in upon me. It might be
literally accurate, but it would
be spiritually untrue to say
that to Diana's senses the
rose would swell as sweet by
another name. Certainly the
thyme and willow-herb and
meadowsweet would lose half
their fragrance under an alias.
And colour would fade, too,
without the intimacy that
names suggest. I agreed with
Diana that even the Latin
names of flowers are beautiful
and suggestive. Yet one is
sometimes taxed with pedantry
for being familiar with them.
What oeuld be better than
Impatiens noli me tangere for
the balsam? Who could be
indifferent to Circcea, the
enchanter's nightshade, when
it has been pointed out to him
by name, or the Chrysosplenium
in the bed of the mountain
stream? There are dainty,
modest, inconspicuous flowers
whose individuality would be
unremembered or forgotten
altogether without their Latin
name.

The man missed much in
the mere associations which
flowers evoke in the same way
as music and smells. He did
not know that he had been
stumbling through Daphne in

1918.]

Mountains, Flowers, and War.

133

the forest all the way down
from the camp on the marg.
And now, as we descended
farther into the plain, we met
the homely water-flowers that
grow in the bed or on the
banks of every English stream
meadowsweet, loosestrife,
arrowhead, water - plantain,
even Butomus, the flowering
rush. The bows of his boat
must often have nosed them
on the Isis and the Cher, but
he was greeted by no familiar
spirits blowing their elfin
horns, waking echoes, con-
juring up the old haunts, the
old delights, the old desires.

Other voices were calling
him. As we descended, the
man became a thruster, a
pioneer. He was the engine
now, not the brake. He
hustled the servants, and blew
impatient shrill blasts on his
whistle summoning the Goojars
to strike camp. He loosened
the tent pegs and lent a hand
at loading the ponies. He was
for long marches and early
starts. His companions were
provokingly, maliciously dila-
tory. On the last morning he
almost pulled the tent about
Diana's ears as she was paint-
ing an uncommon balsam in
her diary.

Gulmarg received us under a
sky still mercifully leaden and
forbidding, emphatic in its
veto. We arrived sodden and
content. We had been wise
we had sought the sun where
we could find it; and now
that it was nowhere to be
found, we were back again by
a log fire under a roof. In
the last march Diana had
found more flowers than she

could paint in two days; the
man's spirits had risen as he
forsook the vertical for the
horizontal ; but I was probably
the best content of the three.
After Mesopotamia I desired
Arcadia, and the bad weather
had driven us down into the
haunts of pastoral peace.
It was like a plunge from
Nietzsche to Theocritus, and
we had camped among the
only people I had met since
1914 who were not destroying,
or directly or indirectly aiding
destruction, or mending what
others destroyed, who were not
even aware of the disease of
war.

The man and I had fallen
into the pre-Georgian way of
looking at peaks he because
of their associations with dis-
comfort, I because I did not
find in them the true and per-
fect antithesis of Mesopotamia.
The antithesis of outline and
feature was not enough. I
craved for the antithesis of
spirit, not merely a vertical
instead of a flat desolation.
Bare mountain-tops will never
appear frightful and depress-
ing again as they did to our
ancestors. Yet among the
changes wrought by the war
in the human spirit there may
come a preference for the
sylvan and pastoral upper
places. We loved wildness
when there was peace, and
sought it. Now we have had
our fill of savagery, it will
not be strange if a bias enters
our spirit and turns us from
what is wild and wasteful in
nature to the old Arcadian
haunts of Pan and the
shepherds.

134

[Jan.

MUSINGS WITHOUT METHOD.

THE DEFECTION OP LORD LAN8DOWNE A CASE OF ATAVISM

PRESIDENT WILSON'S MESSAGE A " FOSTERED DELUSION "

PROSE AND VERSE THE MALIGNED EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
THE VALUE OF TRADITION.

IN the history of the War,
as it now unfolds itself, sur-
prise follows surprise, and the
sudden defection of Lord
Lansdowne was assuredly un-
expected by all save those
who had sat in the Cabinet
with him. That a Minister
who had led the Tory Party
in the House of Lords, who
had in the past defended the
causes of Union and Fiscal
Reform with a persuasive logic,
should become the acknow-
ledged friend and colleague of
Mr Ramsay Maodonald and
his German friends, of Mr
Snowden and Mr Angell (or
Lane), might have astonished
even those who are accustomed
to the vagaries of politicians.
The letter itself is the most
mischievous that has yet ap-
peared in the press. Ib was
published at the moment most
opportune for Germany, when
the collapse of Russia and the
victory snatched by treachery
in Italy were filling our foes
with a new confidence. It
met with a success which not
even Lord Lansdowne can
have anticipated : it instantly
sent up the value of the mark.
For the rest, no word of
wisdom or statesmanship is
spoken in it. It is the common
tangle of loose thought and
careless contradiction, to which
the pro-Germans and Pacifists
all the world over have accus-

tomed us. Lord Lansdowne
says that "we want to inflict
a signal defeat upon the Cen-
tral Powers," and then incon-
tinently suggests terms of
peace favourable to their aims
and ambitions. He has the
effrontery, using Pitt's word
and not Pitt's sense, to say
that we demand security, and
then whittles his " security "
down to nothingness. Does
he remember what Pitt said,
when Tierney defied him to
state, in one sentence, what
was the object of the War?
" I know not," retorted the
Minister, " whether I can do
it in one sentence ; but in one
word I can tell him that it is
security security against a
danger, the greatest that ever
threatened the world. It is
a security against a danger
which never existed in any
past period of society. It is
security against a danger . . .
which threatens all the na-
tions of the earth; against a
danger which has been resisted
by all the nations of Europe,
and resisted by none with so
much success as by this nation,
because by none has it been
resisted so uniformly and with
so much energy." That is the
security which all the Allies
desire, and it can be obtained
not by the weak and paltry
compliance suggested by Lord
Lansdowne, but by a victory,

1918.]

The Defection of Lord Lansdowne.

135

final and complete, obtained
from the Germans on the field
of battle.

And Lord Lansdowne, with-
out a reproach to the Germans
for their broken faith and
frank brutality, is ready to
enter into negotiations with
them. He would grant them
as many "scraps of paper" to
tear up as their cynicism could
demand. He will give them
the "freedom of the seas," for
which a century ago we fought
for twenty years, and will let
them have all the commercial
privileges which their greed
and egoism deem indispensable.
Not a place in the sun, but all
the sun, and the shadow for
the subject races to crawl in
when the Germans permit their
furtive movements! If these
infamous proposals had been
sketched in a pamphlet by a
silly ignorant pacifist, the pam-
phlet would most justly have
been suppressed, and the paci-
fist would have repented of his
temerity in jail. And Lord
Lansdowne's crime against the
State is far heavier than
any crime which an ignorant
pacifist could commit. He has
been the leader in the House of
Lords of a great party. He
has been Secretary of State for
Foreign Affairs. He speaks
with the authority lent him
by the high offices which he
has held. He is powerful to
do harm, because in the past
his fellow - countrymen have
trusted him.

His power of doing evil is
far greater abroad than at
home. In France and America
it is the Foreign Minister who
speaks and speaks, as they

think, with the weight of
public opinion. At home we
know better. Lord Lansdowne
speaks only for himself, and
must be content with such
fulsome praise as 'The Daily
News' can spill upon him.
Moreover, he and his kind are
not unfamiliar in England.
We have never been engaged
in a great war without dis-
covering open or covert sym-
pathisers with the enemy in
the houses of the Whigs. And
no better parallel for the de-
fection of Lord Lansdowne can
be found than that afforded
by his ancestor, the first Lord
Lansdowne, better known as
Lord Shelburne. Here is a
clear ease of atavism. No
sooner did the French revolu-
tionaries declare war upon
England than Lord Shelburne
we will use this title to save
confusion was hot in opposi-
tion to his own country. He
was wholly regardless of the
plain truth that it was France
which declared war. He was
sure that, if France had not
declared it, England would
have, and therefore alone was
to blame. That is a typical
argument which has never
failed to satisfy the Whigs.
"The war," said Lord Shel-
burne, " is a metaphysical war ;
it was declared against France
on account of her internal cir-
cumstances, for the particu-
lar complaints made against
the French Government might
have been settled by negotia-
tion, and did not in any case
afford a ground for hostilities."
There is an ingenious network
of misstatements. All wars
are metaphysical, if you will

136

Musings without Method.

[Jan,

that is to say, they involve
an opposition of opinions and
philosophies. But this war of
1793 was so far from meta-
physics at the outset that it
began, as the present war
began, by the open violation
of a treaty. No amount of
negotiation would have pre-
vented the French from open-
ing the Scheldt in defiance of
solemn undertakings, and had
we not opposed them we should
have been guilty of conniving
at the tearing up of a scrap
of paper. But Lord Shelburne
advocated a policy of rigid
non-intervention, and thought
that he could serve his country
best by embarrassing Pitt in
the conduct of the war.

Thus he played the familiar
game of the Whigs. Though
England was fighting for her
life, he "still insisted that the
true course for the Govern-
ment to pursue was to per-
severe in the cause of parlia-
mentary and economic reform,
which they had originally
marked out for themselves."
He opposed with all his might
the Traitors' Correspondence
Bill and the suspension of the
Habeas Corpus. He fought
untiringly for the rebels, who
took advantage of their coun-
try's stress. He was sure
that "Pitt was engaged in
a hopeless struggle, but re-
fused to recognise the fact,"
and happily for himself he
did not live to witness the
triumph of the English arms.
With all his ingenuity, which
was considerable, he supported
the cause of England's enemies.
He was indignant that food
and provisions should be

brought within the category
of contraband. "Was it pos-
sible," he asked, "to prevent
America carrying any kind of
goods as a neutral nation?"
With what warmth he would
have welcomed Napoleon's
doctrine of "the freedom of
the seas," dear to his descen-
dant, or Sir Edward Grey's
Declaration of London! Any
one who defied the power of
king and parliament in a time
of stress was his friend.
When, in 1795, there were
cries in the street of " No war !
No Pitt!" and George III.
was fired at by a miscreant,
Lord Shelburne found nothing
better to say than that "the
attack was an alarm bell to
terrify the people into weak
compliances," that "it was a
scheme planned and executed
by Ministers themselves for
the purpose of continuing
their power." In brief, he
showed himself the complete
Whig, as the complete Whig
has spoken and acted since
the beginning. And all the
while he worked for peace.
The worst excesses of the
enemy, his most insolent de-
mands, did not perturb him.
Peace he must have peace
with dishonour, such as his
descendant looks for, if that
was the only kind to be ob-
tained.

At last, in 1801, peace came,
and this is what Lord Shel-
burne wrote to Lord Holland :
u I am impatient to drink the
French Consul's health now
that we may do it safely and
honourably, and thanks to him
for granting us peace, no mat-
ter what it is." Surrender

1918.]

President Wilson's Message.

137

could not be more humble.
Lord Shelburne had fought
long and loyally for the French
Consul's cause, and he was
content to accept whatever
terms were flung to him, like
a bone to a dog. Would Lord
Lansdowne, we wonder, drink
the Kaiser's health with an
equal fervour, if the Kaiser
undertook to make "incom-
plete reparation," to grant a
momentary security, and to
accept in exchange "a place
among the great commercial
communities of the world," to-
gether with the coveted boon
of "the freedom of the seas"?
The terms which Lord Lans-
downe offers are no less gen-
erous than those which were
welcomed by Lord Shelburne.
Lord Shelburne saw his terms
rejected, and knew before he
died that the Peace of Amiens
was illusory as it was fraud-
ulent. Lord Lansdowne will
have no better fortune than
his great-grandfather. In vain
has he done a wanton injury
to the Allied cause. The spirit
of England was stronger and
better than the Lansdowne of
that day. It is stronger and
better than the Lansdowne
who has now darkened coun-
sel by speaking with the voice
of the Bolshevist. The truth is
that the politician too often for-
gets the untimeliness of what he
says and does. There are words
and deeds which, merely silly
in time of peace, are obviously
dangerous in time of war. It
is possible that Lord Lans-
downe, trained in the business
of politics for nearly half a
century, has lost his sense of
proportion. But if he were

at all conscious of what he
said in his letter, then he
chose the hour at which he
could inflict the worst injury
upon his native land. Ex-
cuses will be found for him;
excuses are always found for
political ineptitude.

We owe a debt of gratitude to
President Wilson for proclaim-
ing once more, at the right
time, the aims and purposes of
the Allies. His message to Con-
gress is clear and unequivocal.
It deals not with polities but
with realities, and it should be
read and re-read by all those
who still harbour a doubt as
to the ultimate defeat of the
Germans. At the very outset
President Wilson makes a plain
statement, all the more wel-
come after Lord Lansdowne's
muddled proposals. " Our ob-
ject is, of course, to win the
war," he says, "and we shall
not slacken nor suffer ourselves
to be diverted until it is won."
He brushes aside with a ges-
ture of indignation the peace-
monger and pro -German who
would help the cause of the
enemy. "As a nation," he
declares, "we are united in
spirit and intention. I pay
little heed to those who tell me
otherwise. I hear the voices of
dissent who does not ? I hear
the criticism and the clamour
of the noisily thoughtless and
troublesome. I also see men
here and there fling them-
selves in impotent disloyalty
against the calm indomitable
power of the nation. I hear
men debate peace who under-
stand neither its nature nor
the way in which we may
attain it, with uplifted eyes

138

Musings without Method.

[Jan.

and unbroken spirits. But I
know that none of these speak
for the nation. They do not
touch the heart of anything.
They may safely be left to
strut their uneasy hour and
be forgotten.'" That is the
best answer that can be given
to the ill-omened sentimentali-
ties of Lord Lansdowne.

Nor does President Wilson
shrink from the consequences
of his high resolve. He is
ready to support his stalwart
words with stalwart deeds.
"Our present and immediate
task," he repeats, "is to win
the war, and nothing shall
turn us aside from it until it
is aooomplished. Every power
and resource we possess, whether
of men, of money, or of ma-
terials, is being devoted, and
will continue to be devoted, to
that purpose until it is achieved.
. . . We shall regard the war
as won only when the German
people says to us, through pro-
perly accredited representatives,
that it is ready to agree to a
settlement based upon justice
and a reparation of the wrongs
their rulers have done." These
words should remove any hope
that may linger in the minds
of German optimists of an early
and fortunate peace. The
Americans will not draw back,
the French will not draw
back, the British will not
draw back, until we are all
assured of real security and
real reparation, not of the
poor security and the incom-
plete reparation which will
satisfy Lord Lansdowne. The
struggle may take a long time
yet for its finishing. We must
face the possibility of two more

years warfare with courage and
cheerfulness. There are those
who say that two more years of
fighting will bring ruin upon
the world, and Lord Lans-
downe is among them. A far
deeper ruin, because irreparable,
would be the peace sketched
by our anxious busybodies a
peace which would enable the
Germans to prepare for the
next war with an assured con-
fidence of victory. The conduct
of the Germans before the war
and during the war has as-
sured us sufficiently that we
cannot make terms with them
as with decent adversaries.
President Wilson sets this argu-
ment before us with excellent
lucidity the vigorous, rapid,
and successful prosecution of
the war. "We can do this
with all the greater zeal and
enthusiasm," says he, "because
we know that for us this is a
war of high principle ; because
we know, and all the world
knows, that we have been forced
into it to save the very institu-
tions we live under from de-
struction and corruption. The
purposes of the Central Powers
strike straight at the very
heart of everything we believe
in; their methods of warfare
outrage every principle of hu-
manity and of knightly honour;
their intrigue has corrupted
the very thought and spirit
of many of our people; their
sinister and secret diplomacy
has sought to take our very
territory away from us and
disrupt the union of the State.
Our safety would be at an end,
our honour for ever sullied and
brought into contempt, were
we to permit them to triumph."

1918.]

Prose and Verse.

139

The Allies will not permit the
Germans to triumph, and the
sooner the peaoemongers oease
to interrupt us in the perform-
ance of a just duty the sooner
will the war be over.

An eminent poet onoe de-
scribed poetry as "the stuff
which poets write." An ex-
cellent definition, complete and
satisfying. We know what a
poem is when we see it ; we
can recognise prose also by its
shape and form; and we are
content to go no further than
the poet's own definition. But
the simple method of separat-
ing poetry from prose by form
alone does not please the critics,
and for many years we have
been presented with new defini-
tions and new differences. One
reason for this display of in-
genuity has been, we think, the
desire of excluding Pope and
the poets of the eighteenth
century from the list of poets.
The controversy has raged
ever since Warton, and is not
finished yet. But, in any case,
the reason given is unjust and
insufficient, and Pope will sur-
vive with Horace, in the first
rank of poets until the end of
time.

However, Sir Henry Newbolt
has no doubts. In his 'New
Study of English Poetry' he
asks the question, "What is
Poetry?" And he answers it
with an unwavering dogmat-
ism. "We have fostered a
delusion," he says, "the very
common belief that prose is
prose and verse is verse, that
the essential difference is the
difference of form, not of sub-
stance." The "delusion" is

common, and, we believe, no
delusion at all. Prose is prose
and verse is verse, each a
beautiful and delicate art,
which obeys its own rules
and wins its own triumphs.
But if verse is not verse and
prose is not prose, what are
they? "Poetry," says Sir
Henry Newbolt, "is the ex-
pression in human language
of our intuitions : prose is the
expression of our judgments."
Accordingly, from what he
calls "prose," he would ex-
clude all emotion. " The ' real '
world," says he, " the world
of reason, of prose, has of its
own nature no passion, no
humour, no true drama." It
follows from this that " a
novel is essentially poetry";
and he quotes in support
the faet that 'Tom Jones'
has often been called an epio
as indeed it has, but he
might have added that it is
so called by way of metaphor.
Even if we accepted Sir
Henry Newbolt's argument
and we do not accept it we
should find his definition far
too narrow. If we say that
poetry is merely an expression
of intuitions, we should ex-
clude nearly all the poets that
ever lived from Parnassus.
What becomes of Matthew
Arnold's saying, "criticism of
life," if judgments be forbidden
to poets? Surely criticism
judgment is not intuition.
And are Shakespeare and
Dumas, Wordsworth and
Shelley, to take a few
examples, merely expressing
their " intuitions " in human
language? Have not know-
ledge and research, philosophy

140

Musings without Method.

[Jan.

and judgment, all been oon-
oerned in the making of their
works? We think that they
have, and we look about us
in vain for poets amiable
enough to fit the definition
which Sir Henry Newbolt has
framed for them. And, in-
deed, he does not seem to
hold very fast to his own
definition. Having assured us
that verse is not verse and
that prose is not prose, he
tells us also that "poetry is
more akin to danoing than to
song," and fails to explain by
what tie the novel, which he
calls poetry, is related to the
dance. Nor does he in his
book use " poetry " in the new
sense of his own definition.
He admits that "prosody, or
metric law, there must be to
save the gesture from becom-
ing invertebrate " ; and the
rhythm which he discusses
is appropriate only to what
the world has always recog-
nised as poetry. Apply it to
the novel, and it has no mean-
ing ; apply it to the eloquence
of Sir Thomas Browne, and it
is wholly irrelevant. Thus Sir
Henry is driven back upon the
old sound convention, which
he further strengthens by
choosing all his examples from
writers whose title of poet
has never been disputed. We
might have understood his
new study of poetry better
if he had mingled what we
know as prose and verse for
the purpose of illustration.
He has not done this, and we
are forced to think that he
is not wholly confident of his
own definition.

The truth is that the real

essential of poetry is metre.
Those who would judge litera-
ture by its subject and not
by its form will land them-
selves in a bog of confusion
and prejudice. Incidentally,
they will demand that we
should re-write all the books
that have ever been written
upon the art of letters. Prose
and verse have an intelligi-
ble and authoritative meaning.
There is bad verse and bad
prose, but if there be metre
for good or evil, there is poetry.
It is bad poetry when it is
not intense and vivid in ex-
pression, but it is unfair to
burden prose with the sins
and failings of second-rate
poets. It is not great poetry
when it is obviously argumen-
tative ; it is not great prose
either. But metre is the di-
viding line, and metre is not
" mere decoration " ; it belongs
originally to the ear and mind
of the writer. The stuff which
Pope wrote, for instance, was
poetry, because he wrote in
verse, and he must be tried
by the standard which he
chose for himself.

As we have said, the chief
reason why critics have in-
vented new definitions of prose
and poetry is that they have
wished to exclude Pope and
the "classics" from the com-
pany of the poets. The at-
tempt was made at the very
outset of the Romantic move-
ment. Pope was as reticent
about nature as were the
Greeks, who loved the world
about them no less because
they understood the proper
use of a background. It was
thought that Pope showed an

1918.]

Coleridge's Definition of Poetry.

141

exclusive interest in "the
manners and characters of
refined society," and he was
not permitted to hide behind
the august precedent of Horace,
who himself was no better than
a classic. It was the excellent
Joseph Warton who led the
attack, with moderation, for
the most part, and good sense.
At the outset he was so far
from denying Pope the name of
poet, that he placed him " next
to Milton and above Dryden."
Here is what he says in his
preface: "I love the memory
of Pope, I respect and honour
his abilities; but I do not
think him at the head of his
profession. In other words, in
that species of poetry wherein
Pope excelled, he is superior to
all mankind : and I only say
that this species of poetry is
not the most excellent one of
the art." That is a perfectly
clear and reasonable statement.
Pope's species is not the most
excellent. It would be idle to
compare him with Shakespeare
or Milton, with Coleridge or
Wordsworth, with Keats or
Shelley. But he achieved the
end at which he aimed with an
easy mastery, and it is absurd
to deny him the name of poet.
If he be denied, then Horace
and Juvenal and Boileau him-
self must be shut out from the
paradise of fame.

However, Joseph Warton,
not content with doing a simple
justice to Pope, blundered pres-
ently into a suggestion that
perhaps after all Pope was
something less than a poet. So
with the triumph of the Ro-
mantic Movement, Pope fell
deeper into the pit of obloquy,

and suffered almost as much
from the indiscretion of friends
as from the acrimony of foes.
Coleridge, indeed, like the poor
critic that he was, repented
him of an adverse opinion. " I
was not blind to the merits of
this school," he wrote in his
' Biographia Literaria,' "yet as
from inexperience of the world,
and consequent want of sym-
pathy with the general subjects
of the poems, they gave me little
pleasure, I doubtless under-
valued the kind, and with the
presumption of youth withheld
from its masters the legitimate
name of poets." An honest
confession, truly! Nor will
those for whom the words
" prose " and " verse " are mere
delusions find much comfort in
Coleridge's definition. " If the
definition sought for," he wrote,
" be that of a legitimate poem,
I conceive it must be one the
parts of which mutually sup-
port and explain each other;
all in their proportion harmon-
ising with and supporting the
known influences of metrical
arrangement." That definition
would suit Pope's works per-
fectly. It would not suit any
novel that has ever been
written.

The desire, which many
critics acknowledge, a desire
which we suspect is shared by
Sir Henry Newbolt, to ex-
clude the admirable work of
the eighteenth century from
the true body of English
poetry, was encouraged also by
Matthew Arnold, who asserted
that Dryden and Pope "are
not the classics of our poetry,
they are classics of our prose."
Dryden, to be sure, was a

142

Musings without Method.

[Jan.

classic of our prose, which he
fashioned into the instrument
which we know to-day. To us
he seems also a classic of our
poetry, and if Pope wins not
his place by his poetry, he wins
it not at all. The translation
of Homer, defective though it
may be as an English version,
is assuredly not a thing of
prose or reason. Who shall
reduce "The Rape of the Lock "
to the level of a prosaic rule ?
In the kingdom of poetry are
many mansions, and not even
the authority of Matthew
Arnold shall oust Pope and
Dryden from the honoured, if
humbler, places which they
hold by the side of Shake-
speare, Milton, and the rest.
Moreover, it is not without
significance that Coleridge
found the same fault with
Wordsworth which Matthew
Arnold and others have found
with Pope and Dryden. He dis-
covered a " matter-of-faotness "
in certain poems. "To this
accidentality I object," he wrote,
"as contravening the essence
of poetry, which Aristotle pro-
nounces to be (TTrov&aioTarov
/cal <j)i\o(7o^)(t)Tarov 76^09, the
most intense, weighty, and
philosophical product of human
art!" There it is, Matthew
Arnold's own favourite quota-
tion ! Shall we then, on the
double authority of Arnold and
Coleridge, bracket Pope and
Wordsworth as exponents of
the matter-of-fact?

For Sir Henry Newbolt
poetry is a word of praise,
prose is a word of blame,
and he shows the bent of
his mind by describing novels
as "essentially poetry," even

though they contain a large
amount of prosaic detail and
reflections by the author. Here,
as it seems to us, he gives his
case away completely. He
would even admit among poems
the sad works of M. Zola, the
offal of unnumbered note-books,
confessing at the same time
that they are " less poetical "
than Mr Hardy's novels, as
indeed they are. But poems
he believes them to be, and
thus does them more than
justice. On the other hand,
he is wholly unjust to the
writers of great prose who
have written no novels, and
yet have regarded their busi-
ness as a delicate art. He is
guilty of the double sin of
inclusion and of exclusion.
Now prose is an art, wholly
separate from the art of verse,
governed by different rules and
shaped by different purposes.
Aristotle explained the differ-
ence once and for always,
when he defined prose as being
" without metre and not with-
out rhythm." With that de-
finition in our mind we can
take an understanding pride
in the progress of our English
prose. We need give it no
false name. It does not
masquerade as poetry, which
it is not. Nor is it, at its
highest, a mere expression of
reason or argument. It is
prose, which keeps within its
own limits, and which demands
that it should be tried by its
own standard, and not by the
standard of poetry. By the
form which governs it, not by
the subject which animates it,
it asks to be tested. And it
has lived a flourishing life,

1918.]

The Value of Tradition.

143

apart from poetry, for many
centuries.

Look where you will in our
prose, and you will find a
rhythm and a beauty which
are not the rhythm and beauty
of verse. Prose may be trans-
lated into verse, or verse into
prose, and each take on a new
shape and form. Turn to
North's 'Plutarch,' which is
a work not of intuition but
of translation, and note how
Shakespeare lifted the splendid
prose of North into the higher
realm of his poetry. Or in the
other direction compare the
august entrance of Dalila in
"Samson Agonistes":

" But who is this, what thing of Sea

or Land ?

Female of sex it seems,
That so bedecked, ornate and gay,
Comes this way, sailing
Like a stately ship

With all her bravery on, and tackle

trim,
Sails filled, and streamers waving,"

compare this, we say, with
Congreve's modest prose :
"Here she comes i' faith, full
sail, with her fan spread and
her streamers out, and a shoal
of fools for tenders; ha, no, I
ory her mercy!" The sub-
stance is the same in either
case, but prose and verse each
finds his proper shape. And
if you would contemplate prose
of another quality, open the
works of Sir Thomas Browne
at random, and light upon
this : " But the iniquity of
oblivion blindly soattereth her
poppy, and deals with the
memory of men without dis-
tinction to merit of perpetuity.
Who can but pity the founder

of the pyramids ? Herostratus
lives that burned the temple
of Diana, he is almost lost
that built it. Time hath
spared the epitaph of Adrian's
horse, confounded that of him-
self. In vain we compute our
felicities by the advantage of
our good names, since bad
have equal durations, and
Thersites is likely to live as
long as Agamemnon." This
passage is not intuition; it
contains argument and re-
search; it is not extracted
from a novel. It is merely
prose, noble and rotund; it
seeks no inclusion in a poem,
to which it does not belong;
and it will live, as prose, as
long as our English speech.

By the habit and tradition
of our tongue and race verse is
verse and prose is prose. In
spite of Sir Henry Newbolt, we
refuse to believe that we have
" fostered a delusion," and see
no profit in giving new names
to old things. But Sir Henry
Newbolt, following Matthew
Arnold, does not think much
of tradition. He says by way
of reproach that the English
are " accustomed to value tra-
dition highly for the sake of
comfort; as one values old
boots, even when they are no
longer very sound or present-
able." Happily the English
have valued tradition highly,
but not merely for the sake of
comfort. They have under-
stood and herein lies their
greatness that life and art
are tradition and nothing else.
Our writers of prose and poetry
have been lantern-bearers al-
ways. They have handed on
the lamp, duly trimmed, from

144

Musings without Method.

[Jan. 1918.

generation to generation. There
is not one of them worthy to be
remembered who does not owe
his sense of beauty and wisdom
to the past. Even where he
has seemed an innovator, he
has but gone no further back
for his models than the last
generation. If Keats owed
little to the classical school,
he owed a vast deal to Dray ton
and Browne and Fletcher and
Spenser. Sir Henry Newbolt
thinks that all our great poets
have been innovators. Truly
they have added something of
their own, yet how small their
innovations seem when we look
baok upon them ! No greater
than the innovation whioh
caused a riot at the first per-
formance of "Hernani" a bold
enjambement. Indeed, he who
does not value tradition highly
is an anarch who, despising all
the rules discovered in the
past, would make for himself
a new system and a new world,
who would pit against the
gathered wisdom of two thou-
sand years the cunning and the
cleverness of a single brain.
This enterprise of anarchy
is fortunately impossible.
Whether we wish it or not,

we are bound to the past by an
unbreakable chain. We cannot
rid ourselves of our splendid
inheritance. If we could, we
should be born again, each one
of us, into a stone age, and
compelled to fight for our sus-
tenance against our fellows.

Sir Henry Newbolt, himself
a professor, says harsh things
about his kind. Nevertheless
we will conclude our friendly
argument with him by quoting
what Professor W. P. Ker has
to say about Burns. "It is
a great thing," says he, "for
an artist to inherit a strong
tradition, to belong to a school.
It means that he has all the
strength of his own and the
last generation to draw upon ;
he does not waste his time in
solitary adventures ; he is not
left to himself; he is saved
from caprice and melancholy,
from the fate of Chatterton."
That is true. Deprived of a
tradition, the poet and the
writer of prose alike will
squander their years in vain
experiment, and will die with-
out the happy consciousness
of security, without discover-
ing that in art, as in life, the
old ways are best.

Printed by William BlacTcwood and Sons.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

No. MCCXXVIII. FEBRUARY 1918.

VOL. CCIII,

THE BKAIN OF THE GUNS.

BY ANTHONY PENN.

IV. "A EAID TOOK PLACE."

THE Colonel puffed long at
his cigar, then with a puzzled
frown bent again over the
papers before him. At either
side of the small table by the
window sat a bent-up figure,
one (the Adjutant) writing
hard at some orders ; the other
(the Orderly Officer) likewise
writing hard, but not orders.
He was indulging in the un-
lawful relaxation of writing
letters in " office hours." The
telephone rang sharply in the
silence.

" Hallo," answered the Or-
derly Officer, "hullo. Yes,
K 32 speaking. It's written
in your orders. 4.15 pip emma
to-day is the hour. Lost your
battery watch ? Well, find one
somewhere. No. Good-bye."

Lane leant over to the Adju-
tant. " Westshire Siege want-
ing to know when they had to

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

be here to synchronise for the
raid. What a mob they are.
Lost their blinkin' watch,
too."

"Awful," jerked the Adju-
tant without stopping.

Silence again. Then the
Colonel's voice broke in. " Lee,
when is the next raid ? I can't
make out this stuff at all."

" To - night, sir," answered
Lee ; " zero hour not through
yet."

" Ah, I thought that was it.
I wonder if it will be a suc-
cess."

"I wonder." The Adjutant
didn't like conversation while
he was working. But the
Colonel, full of elation at hav-
ing solved the knotty point,
continued unabashed.

"Do you remember the last
raid, Lee?"

"Yes, sir." (Politeness and
K

146

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

discipline forbid you to tell the
O.C. of an Artillery Group
H Q. to be quiet, even if you
do feel like it.)

"It was a bad affair, you
know. The Boohe got wind of
it and retired from his front
line. When our boys went
over they plunged into his
trenoh filled with barbed wire."
The Colonel stopped, as nobody
appeared interested. Each, as
a matter of fact, had told the
story to Colonel Foljambe two
days before. So he said, al-
most sharply, "Didn't they,
Lee?"

"Yes, sir, they did."

The Colonel was beaten.
Being a philosophical Irish-
man he merely puffed content-
edly, and waited for another
opening. It came when the
Orderly Officer picked off the
receiver and called, " Car
wanted now, facing south."

"Not deserting the post of
duty, Lane? Work is very
pressing during this stunt."

Lane repressed a smile as he
answered, " No, sir, just going
to the Corps to synchronise
our watch. To be there at
3.30."

"Indeed. Well, you'll have
to hurry, you know."

"Yes, sir, I've just time, I
think."

Lane left the little room and
jumped into the oar on the
roadway. "Corps," he said
briefly ; then, as the car slid
away, he lit a cigarette and re-
lapsed into day-dreams. Even
the hard and bitter work of
war could not eradicate this
habit. With unseeing eyes he
looked about him, at the little
white crosses in the graveyard

of the roofless church, at an
aeroplane high in the sky,
festooned with tiny puff-balls
of shrapnel. Mechanically he
lifted his hand in answer to
the salute of the Traffic Guide
as the car swung into the main
road. His mind was playing
caressingly with a vision of
brown eyes and two slim
white hands, listening to the
merry laughter and soft voice,
whose echoes rang ever above
all the din and clamour of
battle.

He came back to earth with
a jerk as the car turned in
through the white gates of a
big chateau, and sped up the
winding drive till it stopped
in obedience to a notice, " Cars
must not pass this point."

Lane alighted, hurried round
the bend and up the broad
stairs into what must have
been once almost a palace.
Now, maps hung on the white-
and-gold walls in place of
pictures, and the long table
bore a weight of diagrams and
photographs instead of food
and drink. Several other
officers were standing about,
each holding a large watch.
They had come from the neigh-
bouring Groups H.Q.'s for the
same purpose as Lane, to syn-
chronise their watches exactly
to "Divisional Time." When
orders contain such words as
" Open fire at zero + 2| minutes
. . . Lift to second target at
zero + 31 minutes . . .," it is
obvious that each battery
watch must register the same
time as that which the raiding
party are going by. So the
Groups are each synchronised
by the Corps, then each Group

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

147

synchronises its own batteries.
Thus is oo-ordination assured.

Lane greeted the other offi-
cers, then turned with a smile
of welcome to another who
entered.

"Hullo, old chap," he said.
"Didn't know you were out
yet. Been long up here?"

"Yes, about two months,"
answered the newcomer.

"Heavens, what a time!
I've only been ten. Sorry. I
say, who's eaptaining the school
now?"

" On, it's Newoome this year."

"Newoome, that kid? He
was about two feet high when
I left."

"Yes, but he's an Al half."

"I expect so. I remember
marking him in a house match.
He marked me, though. I've
got the hacks on my knee
yet."

" Yes, he's a bit of a devil
for that. By the way, what's
the Staff Captain like snotty,
or an exception ? "

"Oh, he's as mild as milk.
Frantically polite. It's ' Gentle-
men, this/ and 'Gentlemen,
that' the whole time. But,
'ware the B.M."

Just then the door opened
quietly to admit the " mild aa
milk" Staff Captain. "Good
afternoon, gentlemen," he said
suavely. "Pray pardon me
keeping you waiting. I was
engaged in some rather im-
portant business. Now, if
you're all quite ready I'll give
you the time. 3.35 minus forty
seconds." He looked at his
watch, "Minus thirty twenty
ten five up. Have you
all got that, gentlemen?"

Several voices murmured

dissent. "Ah, well I'll give
you it again at 3.37 this time.
Beady? Twenty -five to go
twenty ten five up. Is that
all right?"

Each officer released the pro-
jection he had been pressing
while moving the watch hands,
and murmured thanks. Then
the Captain spoke again, "I
suppose you must all be getting
back at once." The officers
began to pass out the door.
" You wouldn't like to wait for
a eup of tea, perhaps?"
none evinced a desire to remain
"or a drink?" The last two
(the only ones who heard) said
in chorus, "Thanks, don't
mind," and turned back.

Lane sent his own oar on
and got in beside his old
schoolmate. They discussed
the prospects of the season's
"footer" with enthusiasm un-
til K 32 was reached, where
Lane returned to his duties
until the arrival of an offioei
from each battery in the Group
made him go through the
leading part of a performance
similar to what took place at
the Corps, with the exception
that he did not ask any one to
stay for a drink, the Adjutant
being adamant on the subject
of drinking during working
hours.
iiii*

Dinner over, the Adjutant
made for the door into the
office. The Yet. looked up from
pouring out a liqueur.

"Where fur, Lee? Work to
do?"

"Yes, Vet."

" Say, can't you get this lazy
devil to do it ? "

The " lazy devil," the Orderly

148

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

Offioer, received the remark
calmly, It was a settled con-
viction of the Vet.'s that Lane
did no work, which was not
exactly true.

" Vet.," said Lane in pitying
tones, "when you start to do
some work you can talk about
me. I came up to bed early
last night, about 12.30, and
you were snoring so much I
couldn't get to sleep even
then."

" My lad, I wasn't snoring.
I'd gone to bed early, for I
had to rise 5.30. More than
you ever do."

"Well, I'd rather get up
early than stay up half the
night."

"Rot."

And so the skirmish con-
tinued. The Adjutant retired
into the office, the Colonel and
the Doo. read leisurely. Then
Lane finished the argument by
starting the gramophone. The
worn-out record screeched out
the same tune that had only
been played about six times a
day for a month past, yet to
Lane it meant " Theatre-land "
and " all that ever went with
evening dress." He listened
enraptured. Even the rugged
soul of the Vet. seemed to be
softened, for the treatise on
"Horse Diseases" was laid aside,
and horny hands beat time on
the great knee. Then the door
jerked open, the Adjutant's
head appeared, and vanished
again with one word, "Lane."

Lane entered the office. The
Adjutant's brow was wrinkled
deep with worry. " Zero hour
not through yet," he said.
"Batteries asking for details.
Call up Corps."

" Eight. I'll only get chewed
up by the B.M., but if you

wish " Lane turned to the

'phone. A polite but firm an-
swer came in response to his
inquiry.

"Nothing doing," he said
to the Adjutant ; " same old
thing : * Orders will reach you
in due course.' "

The Adjutant grunted and
paced up and down impatiently.
Lane, thinking it wiser to stay,
sat listening with strained ears
to the distant tinkle of the gram-
ophone. Outside, the rain beat
a tattoo on the wooden shut-
ters. The hands of the leather-
cased clock crept slowly round
to 9.45. Lee stopped, listening.
The front door opened, then
the office door, and a despatch-
rider entered. Saluting, he
handed over his message, re-
ceived back the envelope signed,
and withdrew. Lee muttered
something below his breath and
jumped to the 'phone.

"All batteries," he called,
"any order. Urgent." He
spoke to Lane, "Zero hour, ten
pip emma."

" 'Strewth, fifteen minutes to
get it through. You're 'phon-
ing?" This query, because
stringent orders exist against
giving important messages over
the 'phone in case of " tapping "
on the way by the enemy.

"Yes, the only way. Hullo,
Northern Siege ? Officer ?
Bight. You let fly ten pip
emma. Understand ? Good."
Before three minutes had
passed four out of the six
batteries were informed by that
mysterious phrase, of what
time was "zero hour." The
fifth presented difficulty.

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

149

"Let fly at 10 pip emma."

" What's that ? " The officer
on duty with the battery had
little imagination.

"Let fly, don't you under-
stand?" "

"What? Let fly, Don't
see."

Lee grew almost annoyed,
but did not fall into the mistake
of shouting, and so making
things worse. "Damn it," he
said, olear and distinct, "Let
fly, kick-off, train starts. Guns,
you know. Let 'em have it
see?"

"Oh." Light dawned at last.
" You mean that zero "

"Yes, don't say it." Lee
bellowed this time.

The last battery was the
greatest trouble. " Hullo, 98th
Keserve. Hullo, Hullo I 98th
Reserve" Still no answer, and
then, "Exchange, can't get
98th Keserve. What's up ? "

"You're through to them,
sir. Perhaps the line's given
out."

" Hell,"snapped Lee. "Have
a D.B. standing by at once.
Send Corporal Main." The
Corporal appeared. "The line
to 98th goes by the * Strand,'
sir. They were shelling there
this evening. Perhaps they
cut the wire."

"Right, see to it at once.
Send a D.R."

"Very good, sir." The Cor-
poral left the room, collected a
signaller and set off for the
"Strand." A Despatch Rider
entered. Lee tore off a mes-
sage and handed it over, " 98th
Reserve Heavy. Quick," he
said.

"He'll need lights to-night,
Lee," put in Lane, "and they're

not allowed on that road going
towards the Line."

"Never mind. Put your
headlight on and slip past the
Traffic Guide quick. You can
manage ? "

"Yes, sir," answered the
D.R. joyfully. (The Traffic
Guide was an enemy and to
dash past him represented
victory.) "He won't have
time to stop me."

"Right, off you go."

A moment's silence. Then
the roar of an engine fading
away, a shout from the Traffic
Guide, and only the beat of the
rain again.

"Open fire at zero, don't
they ? " said Lane. " We can't
do anything more. Let's go
outside and watch for them."

Together they went out to
the doorstep, each in his differ-
ent way torn by anxiety for
the success of their last effort.
Lane consulted his watch.
" Time," he said, almost under
his breath. "I wonder "

His unspoken doubt was
answered. A vivid glare of
light flashed through the dark-
ness, throwing the broken
church tower into menacing
relief : the silence of the night
was torn by a rending crash as
the guns spoke with one voice.
But the Adjutant's keen ear
detected a deficit. "98th Re-
serve not fired," he muttered.

A more vivid, nearer flash.
A roar that rattled the shutters
on their hinges, and a long-
drawn whistle. The Adjutant
sighed. "Thank Heaven, that's
them now. Hear their shells ?
Loud, you see, because they're
going sideways across us."

The din continued. A mono-

150

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

tonous roar, varied by the dull,
earth-shakiDg rumble of the
" 9-2's" half a mile away. Lane
was silent, thinking of the
others in front the "P.B.I."
Now they would be all lining
the trench, ready to go over,
each grim and silent. They'd
be going over now, zero plus
twenty. Poor devils. . . ."

The 'phone bell recalled the
two watchers to the office.
Lane lifted the receiver.
"Hullo," he said, "K 32
speaking."

"This is Counter - Battery
Office. How many guns have
you available for * strafeing '
their batteries if they get
active ? "

"Just a moment, air. Lee,
how many guns available for
C.B.W.? It's that maniac
again."

Lee consulted the clock, and
glanced at the time-table for
the raid. " Five," he said.

"Thanks. Hullo, sir. We've
got five."

"Right. Engage these tar-
gets. Alpha 32, 24, 48, 16, and
40. Report when finished."

Each number denoted a
hostile battery whose exact
position was known. Immedi-
ately it was observed firing, to
help in repulsing the raiders,
back went the information to
the Counter-Battery Office at
Corps H.Q., thea down to the
Group covering that sector,
and so to a battery which at
once "got on to" it with a
score of rounds. So is organised
artillery work the raider's best
friend.

Hardly had the targets been
allotted to the spare guns in
the Group when "that maniac"

(notorious for losing his head
on such occasions) rang up
again.

"Cancel Alpha 24, 16, and
40. Keep the others, and take
30, 44, and 11 as well."

"Very good, sir. Alpha 32
and 48 finished with, sir."

"Right you are. Take
Alpha 5 and 12. As you were,
6 and 12."

And so the work continued.
A never-ending stream of
orders and targets as each
active hostile battery was
sprayed with shrapnel, aban-
doned for another, given some
more on signs of renewed
activity, and left again. Cease-
lessly the guns roared in the
outer darkness, making the
papers jump on the tables.
Both telephones rang inces-
santly. Down in "No Man's
Land " a desperate struggle
was going on, men killing
and being killed, fighting like
wild beasts. Such is modern
war.

Towards midnight the hos-
tile fire slackened. One by one
our guns grew silent. Then a
renewed outburst from the
German side set the 'phone
ringing again, and the gun fire
increased. Again it quietened
down slowly. The Boche,
knowing that each outburst
only brought treble retribution,
gradually ceased firing. In
ten minutes more the night
was again silent, except for
one heavy gun far north firing
sullenly, and the occasional
crackle of machine-gun fire
from the lines.

Lee wiped imaginary sweat
from his brow and looked at
the Orderly Officer, who'd have

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

151

been still at the 'Varsity in
ordinary times, sitting pale
and relaxed by the telephone.
It had been hard and wearing
work.

"Lane, "the Adjutant's voice
was unusually gentle, " I think
you had better get off now and
turn in. You look done." As
Lane murmured dissent he
added, "Yes, go on, old ohap.
There's not inuoh more to do.
Thanks for your help. You
were fine."

Thus comforted, Lane said
good -night, stumbled up the
dark stairs, took off his boots
and tunio and fell asleep almost

before he had time to pull the
blankets over him.

And the next day a line in
the communiqud weuld appear,
"A small raid took place
on the front. We cap-
tured a few prisoners." Just
that, and the unwitting reader
would turn to more interesting
matter the football news, the
racing results, or the theatre
notices, according to his several
fancies. And again, according
to the same, would mutter in
disgust, "I wonder when they're
going to do something over
there."

V. ZONE CALLS.

Silence reigned inside the
Cure's tiny house. In the
kitchen, where orderlies lolled
on a Chippendale sofa, and in
the Mess, where the Doc. lay
fast asleep in an arm-ohair with
a cigarette still hanging in his
lips, it was a silence which de-
noted rest. But in the office
well, even that half-hour after
lunch, so sacred to a cigarette
and a quiet talk, or sleep, was
not respected. The Colonel
knotted his hands and frowned
over a document before him,
every minute lifting a pen and
beginning to write, then stop-
ping and puzzling again. The
Adjutant, whose high brow was
knit (as always) into furrowed
lines, was transcribing into a
book from a typed sheet propped
up against the cigarette box.
Opposite him the Orderly Officer
was busy with coloured inks
and maps fashioning a highly-
coloured diagram of the area

visible from each O.P. The
silence was only broken by the
scratch of a match lighting or
the rustle of papers.

After a time the Orderly
Officer sighed deeply, wrote his
name below the diagram and
passed it over without a word
to the Adjutant. Then, with
a glance at the clock to see if
he could spare the time before
making out the daily report for
the Corps, he drew a writing-
tablet from a drawer and
commenced a hurried corre-
spondence. The first, a brief
note asking about a doubtful
bank balance, was soon finished
and the envelope addressed
"Cox & Co." Then another
began, this time, "Dear old
Dad."

"I suppose you don't know,"
he wrote, " what Zone Calls '
are. "Well, they are wireless
messages sent down by recon-
noitring 'planes giving the

152

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

locality of any hostile battery
observed firing, or any moving
troops, &o. They are the ourse
of my life here, as the Flight
Merchants are awfully particu-
lar about our batteries answer-
ing their call by engaging the
target at once. Fortunately
to-day is misty," he continued,
glancing out of the window,
"so we'll have a rest." A
casual glance again made him
think; the mist was certainly
thinner. Even as he looked it
faded and eddied in the light
breeze that was springing up,
and each moment the distant
peak of Elsberg grew more
distinct. He bent over towards
the Adjutant.

"Lee," he whispered, "the
mist's clearing. We'll have
'planes up in a minute now."

As he spoke the winter sun
struggled through the clouds,
pale and watery, but increasing
in intensity each moment.

The Adjutant muttered a
reply and continued writing.
An orderly entered, saluted, and
laid a slip of buff paper in front
of Lane. " Zone Call, sir."

"Damn," muttered Lane,
" here they come. What's this?
NK.T5a2850,T5? That's"
he glanced at a diagram above
him "T 5, Northern Siege."
He picked up the receiver,
"Northern Siege," and waited.
" Through to Northern Siege,
sir."

"Eight. Hullo. K 32 speak-
ing. Have you received a Zone
Call just now?"

The answer came faintly,
"Yes."

"Check, please."

"NK. T5a2850.'

"Correct."

Lane turned to enter the call
on duplicate forms. The door
opened again. Two buff slips
this time. Again the process
was repeated of checking the
call, to ensure that it had
been correctly picked up by
the wireless operator at the
Battery. The Group wireless
station was considered infal-
lible partly because the Ad-
jutant insisted on the operator
on duty remaining beside his
instrument with the receiver
strapped to his head all the
time, instead of lounging about
in the vicinity of it, as was
usual at the batteries.

Every minute the orderly
entered with unfailing regu-
larity, bearing his double
burden of troublous calls. The
telephone rang without inter-
mission, and, far up in the
clear cold air, the watching
'planes saw the answer to
their calls in the shape of
tiny white puffs on the ground
far below.

A variant came. This time
a 'phone from the Squadron,
which directed all flying in the
vicinity.

" Hullo ! that K 32 ? Squad-
ron speaking. Did you receive
a Zone Call at 11.46 ao emma
two days ago, the 22nd ? "

"Wait a bit. I'll look up
the lists." Lane put down
the receiver and said : " Lee,
Squadron wants to know
about a Zone Call two days
ago. I suppose we received
it?"

"'Course," snapped the Ad-
jutant."

"Hullo!" said Lane again
to his questioner. "I find we
have some record of the call

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

153

in question. Exactly what
battery answered, I can't say
at the moment; but one of
them did."

"Did they? Oh, we'll see.
I'm reporting the matter to
Corps. They'll look into your
'some record.'"

"Thank you. Anything
else? Good-bye."

Lane thought a moment,
accepted the inevitable and
returned to his work. After
a bit he paused again and
lifted on to his table the
Zone Call list.

"22nd," he muttered, turn-
ing the pages. "Here we
are. 10.35, 10.40, 11.6, 11.18,
11.42, 11.55, doesn't seem to
be here. Another 'strafe,' I

suppose. Oh, well ," and

he shrugged his shoulders, re-
placing the list.

The Adjutant passed over a
message he had just received.
"Thank Heaven," he said
briefly ; " going to - night."
Lane read the message :
"The three batteries which
joined K 32 Heavy Group for
the purposes of assisting in
raids will move out before
midnight (25th -26th). O.C.
Group will arrange about
tractors with O.C. Corps
Workshop, and for return of
surplus ammunition. The bat-
teries will proceed as follows
. . ." Lane sighed relief. The
tension and strain of the past
week was to be removed, and
life would settle down into a
more ordinary and decent rou-
tine until the next stunt
which might be the " big
show." "Have you 'phoned
Workshop yet, Lee ? " he said,
"or will I?"

"You, please. Now. Two
tractors at this point 11.30
pip emma. Guides will await."

"Eight, old chap. S'pose
98th Reserve Heavy will have
their teams up on their own
account ? "

"Have to," said Lee shortly.

Lane arranged for the
tractors to pull the siege-
guns of the 6 -inch and 9*2-
inoh batteries to their des-
tination that night. Just as
he was replacing the receiver
a voice called him from the ex-
change, situated in a pantry
at the back of the house

"Adjutant, speak to B.M.,
sir."

"Lee," said the Orderly
Officer, "it's the B.M. for you.
About that confounded Zone
Call,* I expect." And he
added in mock sympathy:
"You're for it, my lad."

Lee, noting with relief that
the Colonel had gone out,
snatched up the receiver, his
face wearing that worried
look which the Brigade Major
always caused. "Hullo, sir!
Adjutant K 32 speaking."

A snort in the receiver an-
nounced that the B.M, had
received . the information.
Then

"About that Zone Call
11.46 ao emma, 22nd. Did
you receive it?"

Lane shook his head vigor-
ously.

"No, sir," said Lee; "we
didn't get it in this office."

"You didn't eh? Can you
tell me why? It was sent
down in the ordinary way."

"I'll look into the matter,
sir, and report when I've
found out about it, sir."

154

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

" Will you eh ? Look here.
Did your signallers get the
message ? "

'I haven't consulted them
yet, sir."

"Why not, sir? D* so at
once, and let me know within
five minutes. Understand?"

" Yes, sir. Very good."

Lee replaced the receiver, a
troubled, almost pained look in
the depths of his steely eyes.
" Get Signalling Corporal,
Lane," he said wearily.

The Corporal appeared, list-
ened attentively, and departed
to probe the matter to its
depth. He reappeared, carry-
ing a file of wireless messages.

"One at 11.42, one at 11.55,"
said Lee. "Got anything be-
tween those?"

"Yes, sir. One at 11.46."

Lee groaned. "Why didn't
we get it in the office ? Were
you on duty?"

"No, sir."

"Who was?"

The Corporal thought a mo-
ment. "Ball was the orderly
on duty, sir."

" What Ball ? He's a good
man."

"Yes, sir. I can't under-
stand it at all."

"Put him under arrest at
once."

"Very good, sir."

The Corporal went away on
his unpleasant mission, while
Lee turned to his disagreeable
conversation with the B.M.

"I've found the trouble, sir.
The call was received on our
exchange wireless, but was not
brought to us, sir."

" What's that ? Not brought
to you, eh ? "

"No, sir."

"Well, put the orderly on
duty under arrest at once, and
report by wire what disciplin-
ary action has been taken
against him the damned fool.
You'll have to look after those
men of yours a bit better, Lee."

"Yes, sir. I'll do as you
say, and report to-night." It
was no use telling the B.M.,
Lee knew from bitter experi-
ence, that you had already
done what he told you to do at
once. That was only adding
fuel to his wrath, which was
unpleasant enough as it was.

" Come in for tea, Lee," said
Lane. He was genuinely sorry
for the Adjutant, who took the
B.M.'a "strafes" so much to
heart. " It'll do you good, old
chap, and you can't do any-
thing more until Colonel
Foljambe comes in."

Lee assented reluctantly, and
they passed into the adjoining
mess-room, where quite a
luxurious repast was laid out.
Bread, the ordinary Army
issue, was transformed into
inviting hot toast ; there were
soft brown scones, too, from
Lane's last parcel; a jar of
golden honey all the way from
the "little queen" in distant
Alberta, who looked to the
bodily needs of the big Vet.
There was even a large cake,
one of those rich, decorated
confections, which the hands
of the Colonel's dainty wife
had made. "Quite a spread
to-day, isn't it, Lee?"

"Bather almost makes you
forget things a bit."

"Poor old chap, that B.M.'s
the last word."

Lee's rigorous idea of dis-
cipline was up in arms at once.

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

155

"But he's a good ohap. Only
doing his duty, y' know."

"Well, he needn't do it so
beastly impolitely. Never mind,
though, let's get into this."

Less weighty matters were
discussed as the gifts from
Scotland, from Ireland, and
from Canada softened the Ad-
jutant's aspect. He relaxed
into his real, happy self, and
chatted gaily about the pros-
pects of leave, what shows to
see (Maddock would tell them
all about that), where to dine
in town, the best orchestra,
and all the other important
matters. The Colonel's advent,
just as they were finishing the
meal, brought Lee back again
to the hard realities of his
business. He explained the
matter succinctly, the Colonel
promising, with no relish, to
see the prisoner after tea. The
Doo. being busy (he sometimes
was) at the little dispensary
down the road, and the ab-
sence of the Vet., who was
superintending " horse - dip-
ping," was the Adjutant's ex-
cuse for " talking shop " at
table.

i

"Prisoner and escort halt"
roared a voice. " Stand at-
ease. All correct, sir." The
Corporal reported to Colonel
Foljambe, who sat, looking very
uncomfortable, at a table, on
the other side of which stood
the prisoner. The Colonel
didn't have much regard for
rules of procedure, and came
straight to the point. "Can
you explain this, Ball?"

The prisoner appeared a trifle
sullen, but pain lurked in his
downcast eyes. "No, sir."

"Come, come," said the Col-
onel kindly, "there must be
some explanation. You're a
very good man as a rule.
Can't you say something about
it?"

"No, sir." There was a
quiver of his lip as he an-
swered.

"Well, Ball, I don't want to
sentence you, but I'm afraid
I'll have to. You're keeping
something back, my good fel-
low. Won't you tell me every-
thing?"

The prisoner, who had come
determined to be doggedly
silent under the harsh words
he expected, almost broke down
at the Colonel's kindness.

"I wasn't notioin' at the
time, sir, when they handed
me the message. I was wor-
ried, sir awful worried at a
letter from my wife. I wasn't
just myself, sir. She said
she said " he paused, with a
glance at the escort and the
two officers beside the Colonel.

" Take your escort away, Cor-
poral," he said. "Would you
mind, gentlemen? Thanks."
Lee and Lane left the room.
Then into his sympathetic ears
the prisoner poured, in broken
words, the whole story. Just
the usual sordid tale you can
read every day of these troub-
lous times in the "Police News."
Another man in the question,
drink, the little child ill-treated
by her unnatural and unfaith-
ful mother. All BO sordid and
cheap, yet the most poignant
tragedy to the prisoner.

When he finished, the Col-
onel stood up and placed a
strong hand on the bowed
shoulder. For a few minutes

156

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

he spoke, not as a Colonel to a
Gunner, but almost as a father
to a son. The prisoner, now
exonerated, returned to his
duties, feeling that at least he
had one friend on earth, and
thinking a trifle more than pre-
viously about a greater Friend.
The Colonel, when the two
officers returned, dictated the
wire to Corps. " Prisoner is a
man of good record and excel-
lent character. Has been suf-
fering from nervous trouble,
now disappearing, which ac-
counted for his lapse. In con-
sideration of the above he has
not been fined. I have severely
reprimanded him."

After dinner Lane returned
to the office to enter the miss-
ing Zone Call. As he wrote
a wrinkle appeared on his
brow. He jumped to the big
map. " Q 3 d 5525 Q 3 d Q 3
Strew th. Lee, listen to this.
The pin-point where that 'plane
observed troops moving two
days ago the Zone Call that
all the trouble was about it's
in our lines."

"What!" Lee crossed to
the map.

"Yes, look there. It's that
little bend. He's mistaken it
for the bend farther north.
Wait till I get them."

" Not going to 'phone them ?
Better let it drop."

"No bloomin' fear, me lad.
They've rubbed into us enough,
and now we've caught them
we'll have our own back, and
a little bit extra on account.
'Sides, I can't stand their O.O.
Tried to pinch my er girl
once. Hullo, Squadron, please."

"Through, sir."

"Hullo," Lane was beaming
with delight. "That Orderly
Officer? We're very sorry
about that Zone Call we didn't
answer "

"So are we."

"You will be in a minute,"
thought Lane, then added :
"Yes, very sorry. But if you
wouldn't mind teaching your
observers to observe we'd be
awfully obliged. You see, we
simply hate having to fire on
our own troops, even when
you do honour us with a Zone
Call."

" What do you mean ? " The
voice was more than a little
anxious.

"You asked us to fire on a
1 Troops Moving ' target," went
on Lane, prolonging the agony.

" Yes. What about it ? "

" Not much. They were our
troops."

An example of advanced
elocution came to him from
the other end of the wire.
He broke in, determined on
having that "little bit extra."

"If you happen, by any
chance, to have a map in
your nursery, you'd better
take a look at it. You'll see
after a little study that the
point your man sent down
was behind our front line.
So, unless there was a 'break-
through ' we hadn't heard of "
then he stopped, hearing the
click of the other receiver being
replaced, and turned to Lee
with a smile of vengeance
satisfied. "Now, they'll be
more careful about their miser-
able Zone Calls." He smiled.

Before the Adjutant could
reply, a head of bristly hair
appeared at the door. " Lee,"

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

157

said the Vet., " there's no
whisky left. That dura boy
of yours has finished it, I
reckon."

" Never mind, Vet. I didn't
finish it, but still it's my half-
day off to - morrow, and I'm
going into San Merke. I'll
get some at the Canteen. Re-
member the time the Doo. and
you got the port, and we dis-
covered at dinner that it was
Invalid Port?"

....

" The vendetta," Lane wrote
in a postscript to his letter
before going to bed, " between

us and the Squadron still goes
on. To-day we scored heavily.
They'd asked us to fire on
troops moving, and made an
awful fuss because we didn't.
The battery wireless was wrong,
and one of our orderlies forgot
to bring us the message. We
found later the point indicated
was in our own lines. The ob-
server had mistaken the target
in the mist, or sent down the
letter wrong. It wasn't his
fault, but it enabled me to
score nicely off De Brett at
the Squadron. Not much else
doing."

VI. A DAY IN TOWN.

The Orderly Officer looked
surprised as he opened the
mess door. Being down speci-
ally early for breakfast, he also
felt rather aggrieved to see the
Colonel, his meal finished, sit-
ting over the stove.

" Good-morning, sir," he said.

"Good - morning, my boy.
Early this morning, eh ? "

Lane nodded doubtful assent,
not being sure whether the last
words referred to the Colonel or
himself. He pressed the bell,
and ordered more toast from
the orderly who answered his
summons, then sat down to
his porridge.

" Your day off, Lane, isn't
it ? " said the Colonel.

"Yes, sir. I'm off after 11
o'clock if there's not much
work." As the Adjutant
entered from the office to get
more cigarettes, Lane added :
"Will I be able to get off
at eleven, Loe ? Is there much
work ? "

" No, not much doing. Extra
batteries safely gone last night.
You can go if Colonel Foljambe
doesn't want you."

"Oh, that's all right, Lee,"
said the Colonel pleasantly.
" Do you want to take the
oar, Lane?"

"Thanks awfully, sir. If
you're not needing it ? "

"All right, you take it."

"Thank you, sir."

Heavy footsteps clattered
down the unoarpeted stair,
and two figures entered the
mess. First came the Vet.,
big and burly, his bullet head
covered with bristly hair,
smiling and rubbing his great
hands together. After him
entered the Doo., whose curly
hair and blue eyes proclaimed
his Irish origin as much as did
the long soar on his forehead,
a relic from some long past
election row.

The two newcomers greeted
the Colonel and Lane, then

158

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

fell silent while they consumed
prodigious plates of porridge
and piles of toast. The Yet.
was spreading his favourite
honey (from his wife in far-off
Alberta) on the last slice, when
Lane spoke.

''Vet., are you doing much
to-day ? "

" Guess not, boy. Why d'you
ask?"

"I'm going into San Merke
with the oar at eleven. Will
you and the Doo. come along ? "

"Rather. You kin come,
Doo. ? "

"Of course he can," said
Lane ; " he's never got any-
thing to do. I'm going to
be a Doo. in the next war "
then, seeing the Yet. smiling
broadly, he added "or a
Yet."

This of course commenced
a battle, which lasted almost
until Lane went into the
office. But his parting words
showed what of heat had been
in the argument. "Well,
you'll come, you two ? That's
right. Be ready at eleven, for
I've a frantic lot to do in town."

The oar, with its three oc-
cupants, passed the Traffic
Guide near Group H.Q., and
descended the long hill to the
main road, where it was forced
to crawl along in a line of slow-
moving lorries and carts, ex-
cept when an opening in the
parallel stream of vehicles,
going " Linewards," allowed it
to slip from its place and
bucket along the broken pav6
to a place farther up. At
last the long rise into the
town was commenced. Up
the hill, past the various

offices and stores, past a
building where a flaring ad-
vertisement announced that
the "Flanders Follies Concert
Party " would give selections
from their famous repertoire
that night, round the corner
where a large Red Cross flag
hung half across the street,
into the main square, where
the oar was parked beside a
score of others, and the three
officers alighted.

" What shall we do first ? "
said Lane. " It's too early for
lunch."

"Bath," answered the others
in chorus.

"Right. The Club, I sup-
pose?"

So off up the narrow street
to a large house, converted into
an Officers' Club. Three baths
were ordered from the "jeune
Fran9aise" who attended to
them, and they parted company
for a while.

Lane ruefully surveyed his
bathroom. An ordinary attic,
bare and not over-clean, in
which had been installed a
large bath, its paint cracked
and blistered, and above it a
curious arrangement known as
a "geyser," from which a tiny
pipe conveyed water to the
bath. After reading all the
directions for dealing with the
monster, Lane cautiously lit
the gas-ring and opened the
tap, as directed. While un-
dressing the idea occurred to
him to keep the tap closed until
the water was really hot, and
only then to open it. He im-
mediately carried this plan into
execution, and, at imminent
risk of explosion, filled the bath
with two feet of steaming

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

159

water, into which he plunged
with delight.

" Isn't this ripping ? " he said
to himself, vigorously plying
soap and brush. "First bath
for three weeks. Better than
that awful apology I got at the
battery. Whew! it's warm."

Then, his washing finished,
he lay down with only his face
above the water, and dreamed
of baths at home and baths in
town, and from that to bathing
on holidays, in the sea, in High-
land loohs, in rook-bound lakes.
Just as he was living through
a splendid "dip " in an ioe-oold
mountain burn, his eye caught
a notice requesting officers not
to remain more than fifteen
minutes in the bath. Reluc-
tantly he got out, dried, and
dressed. Downstairs he met
the Doc. and Vet. waiting im-
patiently.

"Come on, Lane," said the
Doc. " We're hungry."

"Sorry for being so long.
Where shall we lunch. There
are too many * brass-hats' in
this place to be comfortable.
What about the ' Hotel des
Allies' in the Place?"

"No good," said the Vet.;
" they never give you enough
to eat there."

" Well, let's walk down and
have a look round."

A tempting smell of " poulet
r6ti," issuing from a tiny house,
made them stop. Lane looked
at the window.

" Not bad. ' Restaurant pour
Offioiers ' it says. Shall we try
here?"

" Right, lad. Lead on."

So in they went. A pretty
maid with blue eyes, that some-
how reminded Lane of a holiday

spent years before in Devon,
took their unintelligible order,
and began to offer them every-
thing in the 'place. Lane
thought it seemed rather a big
lunch, but continued eating
with the others till all the
choices had been well sampled.
Then they pulled their chairs
to the stove and sat blowing
clouds of smoke until the Doc.
broke in.

"We'd better be getting
along, you chaps, if we're going
to get through that shopping
Lee wants done."

" Right, Doc. Let's take the
oar with us to put the things
in."

So the car was taken and a
first stop made at a tiny " eon-
fiseur." Here the Vet., who
carried the list of requirements
for the mess, purchased a large
box of liqueur chocolates,
while Lane surreptitiously col-
lected various bags and boxes
of the choicest chocolates and
fondants he could find. The
Canteen, a big shed near the
Place, was the next house of call.
They mounted to the raised
platform where the notice read
" Officers' Department."

"First thing," said the
Vet., "is whisky. Got any
whisky?"

"Scotch whisky," put in
Lane.

" Irish," said the Doc.

"We haven't any Irish, sir,"
replied the attendant.

"There you are, Doc. They
won't even keep that raw fire
of yours. Get a dozen * Johnnie
Walker,' Vet."

The case of whisky pur-
chased, to it were added cigar-
ettes, soup squares, pears,

160

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

crystallised fruits, meal, and
matches. When everything
had been bought the three
staggered out with their load
to the oar, and drove to a tiny
shop, into which they carried a
dozen empty syphons, which
the buxom "patronne" filled
with a liquid alleged to bs
"soda-water."

When they again left the car
in the Place and set off for tea,
Lane parted with the others.
"Some things to get," he ex-
claimed, rather shyly.

He began in a stationer's.
His French consisted of a few
half - remembered words from
his school-days and a collection
of forceful expletives culled
from " The Beloved Vagabond."
But he marched in boldly and
began.

" Des papiers Anglais ? "
" Ah oui, m'sieur. La voila."
Lane chose the ' Tatler,'
1 Sketch,' ' Bystander,' and a
few others, while the voluble
Frenchman discoursed un-
heeded, Not to be beaten, he
tried again in "English."

"Les Boohes, m'sieur, ils
ont " and he made an expres-
sive downward movement with
his hands and pointed to the
Station.

"Set fire to it briiler?"
said Lane.

"Ah, non, m'sieur," again
the hand play.

"What, then? Canons?"
"Oui, m'sieu. Aeroplanes."
"Oh, bombed the Station?
Salles Boches, n'est-ce pas?
Sacre nom d'un coohon." This
last was always effective.

The delighted shopkeeper
plunged into a full account
of the raid the previous day.

All Lane gathered was an
occasional "tues" and a
number; so each time he rose
to the occasion with "Sacre
bleu," "Nom d'un ohameau,"
or "Saore nom d'un nom."
After a few minutes of this
profane conversation he
turned to the real object of
his visit " un souvenir,
monsieur, pour une demoiselle.
Compris?"

The smiling Frenchman did,
and showed Lane an assort-
ment of spoons, engraved ash-
trays, handkerchiefs embroi-
dered in flaring colours, and
little silver figures of the
saints. In the end Lane chose
some of the quietest of the
handkerchiefs, and, with recol-
lections of a tiny gold -tipped
cigarette smoked after coffee
in a dressing-room, took one
of the ash-trays as well.

Then back to the car to
deposit his purchases, except
the handkerchiefs, which he
kept in his pocket. The
driver was standing near.

"Haven't you gone for tea,
Williams ? I'm sure you want
something," asked Lane.

" Oh, I'd a good lunch, sir,"
answered the driver, with
averted eye.

" Well, that's no reason why
you shouldn't have a good tea
as well. Have you" he was
going to say "got plenty of
money," but changed it at
the last moment " er for-
gotten to bring your purse ? "

"Well, sir, the fact ie "

"There; not a word to any-
body. See ? Now go and have
a good tea."

The driver departed, mutter-
ing astonished thanks for the

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

five -franc note in his hand,
while Lane returned to the
Club. As he entered the
smoking-room, he saw dimly
through the veil of smoke
the big white -and -gold room
filled with khaki figures. The
buzz of oonversation was al-
most deafening. Snatches of
it came to him as he stood
looking round for any one he
knew.

"... and he managed to re-
start his engine while they
were coming for him. His
observer held them with the
machine - gun, and they got
back safe. He's getting the

". . . he was killed in Del-
ville Wood about a year ago.*
We found the place literally
heaped with dead Boohes,
where he'd held off counter-
attacks for five hours . . ."

". . . that thing beginning,
'Let the Great Big World'-
something or other. I heard
it last leave . . ."

". . . can't play it any more.
The Colonel put his foot
through all the records when
he didn't get the . . ."

". . . got on to it with the
third round. You can hardly
see the place at all now; it's
as level as . . ."

"... she had that wonder-
ful reddish hair what d'you
call it? Titian red. . . ."

An officer left a little group
and came over to Lane.

"Hullo, old chap! Day
off?"

"Oh, it's you!" shouted
Lane. " Come some place for
tea?"

"Right," bawled the other
through the noise. "Wait

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

161
Hi,

till I get this man.
Junky!"

A third officer joined them,
and they made their way to
a back room of a little
pd tisser ie.

"The," said the Sapper
briefly.

" Wee, boooo," added Junky.

" I say, you chaps, let's pre-
tend "

" Pretend ? " said the others,

"Yes," answered Lane, "pre-
tend this is one of the old
nights in Town. We're having
dinner at "

"Waldorf," put in the
Sapper.

"Right ; the Waldorf. And
of course we're having a party.
S'pose it's the Theatre Royal
crowd eh ? "

"Rather," said Junky.
"You've got the ' Princess/
I suppose, as usual?"

"Lucky beggar," muttered
the Sapper.

"And I've got D6sir6e.
Sapper has got Daphne, and
all the rest are sitting round
here."

"I say, do you know that
the 'Princess' celebrates her
twentieth birthday on Wednes-
day ? I've just been getting
something to send her as a
er souvenir. Let's drink her
health."

"Not in tea, Lane, surely.
Gar9on, de champagne, vite."

When the wine arrived, three
glasses were filled, and the
officers rose to their feet.

"To the brown eyes of the
' Princess.' Long life and hap-
piness." Three glasses were
clinked and drained. Then,
while the others ate and talked,
Lane fell into a reverie. How

162

The Brain of the Guns.

[Feb.

different this is to our old
nights. Wonder what she's
doing just now. . . .

" Lane, wake up. In dream-
land ? Junky's going to play."

The battered piano was
pulled from its corner, and
Junky crashed out all the
latest songs whioh they sang
till they were hoarse. Then
Lane sat down on the piano-
stool. He never had taken
music lessons, but could play
little soft things, simply but
with wonderful feeling. He
played "Softly awakes my
heart," while the others sat
enthralled at the melody of
the immortal love-song. Then
the poor, hackneyed "Bar-
carolle "from "Hoffmann." Yet
as Lane played it, reverently
and softly, it seemed to whisper
of lights and laughter and still
waters. A phrase, remembered
from some poem, crossed his
mind

"Those tunes that mean so much to

you alone
Common tunes that make you choke

and blow your nose,
Vulgar tunes that bring the laugh that

brings the groan,

I can rip your very heart-strings out
with those."

He stopped playing and
leant forward, his elbows on
the keys, his face buried in his
hands. He was beginning to
understand the last line.
Heart-strings. . . .

The Doc. and the Vet. waited
impatiently at the car. The
Place was growing dark, and
the towers of the old H6tel
de Ville fading away in blue
shadow. At last Lane ap-
peared, not the usual laughing,

sarcastic Lane, but one quieter,
with a softness of line in his
face, and a hint of moisture in
his eyes.

"I'm sorry for keeping you
two waiting," was all he said,
as he climbed in beside the
driver.

The oar slowly moved from
its place in the crowd of
vehicles, and slipped down the
descent out of the town. They
passed the hall where a crowd
of Tommies, sprinkled here and
there with the red or blue tabs
of the Staff, were crowding in
to see the "Flanders Follies."
The Vet. leant over and tapped
Lane's shoulder.

" What's up, lad ? Not feel-
*ing well? You're awfully
quiet."

With an effort Lane regained
almost his natural self.
" I'm all right, Vet. Fit as you
like. I was just thinking of
something." The only explan-
ation he could give to the Vet.
of his feelings: how could he
explain that he'd discovered he
was in love ?

" Eight ; I thought you were
ill. What did you do all the
time? Get your hands mani-
cured, or your hair sham-
pooed?"

"No, I meant to do both
those, but I met some men I
knew, and we sat a long time
over tea. We were pretend-
ing "

" You were what ? Pretend-
ing?"

Lane realised the impossi-
bility of making the Vet. under-
stand. The big raw man had
probably never pretended any-
thing in his life. The Doc.,
with his Celtic temperament,

1918.]

The Brain of the Guns.

163

would have understood, but
not the Vet.

" Yes, pretending there
wasn't a war on."

"Useless sort of thing,"
grunted the Vet., relapsing into
silence, until the head -lights
revealed a battalion coming
up the poplar - lined road,
muddy and tired, but happy
at the thought of leaving, for
a time at least, the Line.
"Good lads," he said.

"Yes, they're Irish," said
the Doo.

" I used to rather look down
on the Infantry when I was in
England," muttered Lane, half
to himself. "Used to reckon
I was above them, being Royal
Regiment. But now well, I
take off my hat to them every
time."

A few more minutes brought
the oar to H.Q., where the
stores were carried in, and the
three voyagers hurried up-
stairs to wash before dinner.

"Lane," said the Adjutant,
" I've had a wire from Mad-
dock. He'll be back in two
days. Will you be ready to
leave then?"

"Yes. Two days? Plenty
of time to pack my huge kit
to-night, let alone to-morrow."

But he didn't pack that
night. Instead, he wrote a
long letter, told a story in it,
and asked a question. Then
he slipped in the handkerchiefs,
and sent off the packet, to
bring tears of happiness to
two brown eyes, and from a
heart a tender "Yes."

164

[Feb.

SILHOUETTES FROM THE SUDAN,

BY G. J. H.

THE SUDAN ARAB.

VISITORS to Egypt will find
posted up in their hotel bed-
rooms a notice directing them
to "ring once for the waiter,
twice for the chambermaid,
three times for the Arab."
The silent gentleman who
answers the three rings may
be an Egyptian, or a Nubian
from Southern Egypt : he will
certainly not be an Arab.
There may be, in the Sudan,
a few oases of Arabs enter-
ing domestic service ; but very
few.

The hotel manager, however,
is not altogether to blame for
the mistake, for the Anglo-
Egyptian resident commonly
refers to the Egyptians as
Arabs. The only Arabs in
Egypt are the Bedouins, who
lead a nomadic existence on the
northern fringes of the Delta.
These form a very small pro-
portion of the population of
Egypt the Nile valley and
its Delta. The vast majority
may have a little Arab blood
in their veins, but they are
a mixture of all the ages,
and bear no resemblance in
features or character to the
true Arab.

But owing to that unlucky
hotel notice, the tourist starts
off with the idea that the Arab
is a very ordinary sort of
person, often picturesque, who
may wait in a hotel, dig in the
fields, sail a Nile boat, or sell

him mats in the native bazaar
at several times their proper
value.

As a matter of fact, the Arab
proper is an aristocrat com-
pared to the Egyptian ; and in
the Sudan, as elsewhere, the
Arabs have maintained their
tribal customs and obligations
unchanged through hundreds
of years.

The Sudan means " the
country of the black," and
the original inhabitants of the
Sudan were negroes. Arab
tribes, with their wander-
ing propensities, invaded the
country, and either enslaved
the aboriginal population or
pushed them back to the
swampy, unhealthy country
of the South. As always,
the race of inferior intellect
and civilisation had to give
way to the superior.

A country such as Egypt
does not attract the Arab. It
is a mere kitchen garden, in-
tensively cultivated, in the
midst of a desolate waste of
sand wholly devoid of life, and
incapable of supporting life in
any form. "A thread divides
the desert from the sown " : one
must either be a unit of the
teeming multitude who are in-
dustriously cultivating every
square foot of the soil, or go
elsewhere.

Such a life to the Arab is
impossible. He is only at home

1918.] The Sudan Arab. 165

in wide spaces, where his live and, wherever the conditions
stock can find pasturage, and are exceptionally propitious, he
where, if he wishes, he can will grow his grain. Within
grow any grain he needs, on the district the head of the
a communal system. Such a tribe is king indeed. All
country he finds in the Sudan, questions of occupation not
which, compared with the ownership of land are settled
Egyptian kitchen garden, is by him ; all disputes are
an Empire, with an Empire's primarily referred to him.
diversity of climates and natural As it was in the days of
conditions. Egypt is a rain- Abraham, so is it now. His
less country, dependent for life life is essentially nomadic ; at
upon the Nile's bounty and times the struggle for exist-
man's labour in utilising its enoe is hard, and this struggle
waters. But the Sudan has produces a hardy type of man,
a rainfall that increases from capable of much greater en-
practioally nothing in the durance than hi softer neigh-
north, where it marches with bour of the kitchen garden.
Egypt, to a fall of 40 or 50 In character, too, he compares
inches in the south as one favourably with him, due to
approaches the Abyssinian this struggle and the strength
foothills. The late Lord Salis- of his tribal tie, which pro-
bury, intending to be witty, duoes in him a sense ef honour,
said that he understood the altogether lacking in the
Sudan to consist chiefly of a Egyptian.

light sandy soil. He was The following incident is
wrong. The northern section typical. One day when trek-
may be so described ; but the king along a path cut through
Middle and Southern Sudan thorn scrub my cook, who was
consists entirely of rich oul- riding some distance in front,
tivable soil: a little block of pulled up his camel into a
land about 1300 miles long walk, so that I should catch
by 600 wide ! It is in the him rap, and whispered that
middle belt that the Arab is he had seen two lion cubs
chiefly to be found. Here the cross the track. Where the
rainfall is moderate and the cubs were, there might also
conditions for him are ideal, be the parents; so I slipped
The country is free of the off my camel with my rifle,
subtropical forest growth that and crept into the scrub in
characterises the southern belt, the direction he had indicated,
and there is good pasturage The wind was favourable and
for his flocks and herds over cover good, and I had caught
wide areas, limited only by sight of my quarry and was
unwritten conventions that carefully working into a
mark off a district for his favourable position for a shot
tribal occupation. Within that when suddenly they bolted,
district he is free to move at I was certain no movement of
will, wherever the rainfall has mine had startled them, and,
produced the best pasturage ; looking round to see the^oause,

166

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

found that my Arab guide had
followed me into the jungle,
spear in hand. Angrily I
asked him why he had fol-
lowed me and spoiled my stalk.
His answer completely turned
away wrath : " What you were
doing was dangerous ; how
oould I go baok to my people
with honour if you were
killed? I had to share the
risk with you."

When travelling among these
people one comes right baok to
the beginnings of things. Con-
ventions of time and distance
and coinage cease to be of
value. If an Arab is asked
how far it is to some place, he
will answer that it is near, or
far off, or so many days' jour-
ney. If near, he probably
means something less than half
a day's journey. As hours
mean nothing to him, it is use-
less to ask how long it will
take to reach the place. The
question must be put to him
thus: If I start from here at
sunrise, how high will the sun
be in the heavens when I arrive
there if walking? From this
one deduces how many hours'
walk it is, therefore what dis-
tance.

His only measure of distance
is the pace. The Sheikh, when
parcelling out a piece of ground
for cultivation, will give each
man or head of a family a front-
age and depth of so many paces.
This area will be allotted solely
in accordance with the family's
power to cultivate and need of
the fruits thereof. This is
surely the fairest possible sys-
tem of distribution of land. A
man's only right to hold land,
from year to year, is his power

to make the best use of it.
Occupancy in previous years is
in itself no title.

To these people money is of
no value, as it does not enter
into their daily life. Money is
merely a convention to simplify
the process of bartering in
more complicated stages of
civilisation. The Arabs still
barter directly. Their wealth
is counted in their herds of
cattle or camels, or flocks
of sheep. To some extent
they are like boys who boast
that their collection of stamps
amounts to so many thousands.
So an Arab is said to be the
owner of so many head of cattle
or camels or sheep. When he
wants to buy anything cloth-
ing or the like he will take to
a market town, possibly many
days' journey away, some of
his live stock, and will barter
it in the market-place for the
goods he wants. If the travel-
ler wants to buy a sheep from
him, the purchase price will not
be so much in cash, but an
exchange of anything that the
traveller possesses that the
Arab wants. Thus I have
exchanged a box of matches,
and on another occasion a
double handful of flour, for a
sheep. The purchaser of the
flour had lived for weeks on
end on nothing but milk, and
jumped at the offer of flour
wherewith to have a feast of
unleavened bread. Milk they
give without question. They
have a superfluity of something
that the stranger wants, there-
fore they give.

Their hospitality and desire
to honour the stranger when
passing by their fe encampments

1918.]

The Sudan Arab.

167

is at times embarrassing when
one is in a hurry. The honoured
guest must rest ; he must drink
coffee. And what coffee ! But
it takes time, as the beans
must be roasted and pounded
before the coffee can be brewed,
for your Arab knows that so
only can the perfect flavour be
obtained. Meanwhile the sun
is mounting higher in the
heavens, and the time in ex-
changing civilities must be
made up by travelling longer
in the heat of the day. It may
be inconvenient or it may be
merely a nuisance, but it will
repay you. Not to accept their
hospitality is looked upon as a
discourtesy, and you will so
deprive yourself of the many
small kindly acts by which they
can help the traveller on his
way.

Though the Arab will not
demean himself by entering
domestic service, there are
many ways in which his ser-
vices are of particular value
to the white man when travel-
ling or working in his country.
Hardy and tireless, excelling in
the arts of the wilds, he adds
to these a sense of honour
that makes him give faithful
service under all conditions.
The Egyptian will give honest
service too, but his devotion
always resembles cupboard
love. The Arab's is a finer,
higher type of honour. And
because his character is fine,
it is easy for the white man
to get into close sympathy
with him, One meets the
Arab on a footing of equal-
ity : each knows that the
other will play the game.

It is as oamelmen on trek,

or as trackers on shooting
expeditions, that the Arab is
brought chiefly in contact
with the white man. For a
guide or tracker to lose his
way, even on the blackest
night, is extremely rare. They
even seem to possess a sense
of direction that we have
quite lost.

On trek the Arab is peer-
less. In handling camels, of
course, he is expert, and his
powers of endurance are re-
markable. There can be no
more comfortable method of
trekking than with a good
string of camels. The man
who has passed the tender-
foot stage divides his transport
in two : half the camels, lightly
loaded, trot with him, carrying
what he requires at the next
halt; the rest, fully loaded,
move at a walk of about three
miles an hour. The men in
charge of these camels walk
with them. If one is travel-
ling fast, covering forty miles
a day, the men will do it day
after day without any sign of
fatigue.

Such men make fine soldiers,
and there is probably no finer
body of men in the world than
the Arab Battalion of the
Sudan army. Good shots ;
obedient, courageous, tireless,
as steady in defence as in
attack, wonderfully fast travel-
lers when needs be. Of their
famous marches, the following
is a good example. At 12 noon
an urgent wire was received
at their H.Q. that there were
signs of trouble at a station
135 miles away ; a double
company was to be sent there
as quickly as possible. Two

168

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

hours later they were under
way. The Britisher in com-
mand rode, but the men all
marched, carrying in addition
to arms and ammunition two
days' supply ef food and water.
They were accompanied by a
few camels, lightly loaded with
emergency rations, medical
stores, &o. The organisation
that enabled 200 men to set
off thus at two hours' notice
was very thorough. After
two days on the road they
crossed a river near a post,

where they were able to refill
their water - skins and draw
some food. And seventy hours
after starting they had covered
the 135 miles without a man
falling out, not exhausted like
Marathon runners at the end
of a race, but in the pink of
condition, spoiling for a fight.
But the speed and unexpected-
ness with which they had
arrived took the malcontents
completely by surprise, and
the threatened trouble fizzled
out.

BROWN DETECTIVES.

Every community has its
agents for hunting down the
criminal: these vary in kind
from the witch - doctors of
Darkest Africa to the detec-
tives of Scotland Yard. In
the Sudan it is the native
tracker who is called in to
assist the authorities when
some mysterious crime has
been committed, and many a
criminal has been brought to
justice by their evidence. The
tracks on the ground, to their
unerring eye, will afford evi-
dence of capital importance,
just as a careless finger-point
in highly organised societies
may be the undoing of old
offenders.

The skill of these trackers
is marvellous. Just as we
recognise the handwriting of
our friends, and the profes-
sional will detect a forgery,
so the tracks on the ground
are an open book full of mean-
ing to the tracker. He will
state confidently and correctly
that he knows the footprint

of every man, woman, and
child in his village. A tracker
was taken to the scene of a
robbery in his village, and at
once said that the thief was
a stranger. A traveller had
halted there a few hours be-
fore. A mounted policeman
was sent in pursuit of him :
his baggage was searched and
the missing articles were found.
But for the tracker's confident
statement that the thief was
a stranger, he might never
have been suspected.

An officer who had lived at
a station for some months
came back to it after four
years' absence. Shortly after
his arrival he was greeted
joyfully by an Arab, who had
known him when he was sta-
tioned there formerly, with
the remark, "I was glad to
see you had come back : I saw
you had walked through the
market-place this morning."
We hear of the arrival of a
friend : the tracker reads of it
on the ground.

1918.]

One might think that, in the
Sudan, where camels are left
to graze at will for days on
end quite unattended, oamel-
thieving would be rife. Actu-
ally it is very rare. To the
oamelmen every arrival has
its individual footprint, just
as easily recognisable to him
as man's. To the white man
the only difference discernible
between two spoors is in their
size. But the camel owner is
able to pick out his camel's
spoor on a road littered, so to
speak, with other tracks.

So the camel thief has no
chance ; he will be followed
along roads or across country
until he is run to earth. A
donkey's track can be followed
with equal certainty. Neither
mounted nor on foot has the
criminal much chance to es-
cape. This, coupled with the
knowledge that justice will
most certainly be meted out,
keeps the Sudan remarkably
free from crime.

Natives who have proved
their exceptional skill in de-
ciphering the writing on the
ground hold a semi-official po-
sition as Government trackers.
When a crime that baffles or-
dinary investigation has been
committed, one or more of
them are called in to assist,
just as detectives are detailed
to unravel a mystery. And
their help often means that a
criminal who otherwise would
remain undetected is brought
to justice. Take the case of
a theft from a native house.
The owner of the house and
his neighbours could give the
authorities no evidence of any
sort to act on, so a tracker

Brown Detectives.

169

was called in. After the brief-
est of examinations he asked
the owner of the house if he
had any friends among the
Egyptian soldiers garrisoning
the town. When the owner
said he did not even know
any of them to speak to, the
detective answered that one
of them was then the thief,
for an Egyptian soldier wear-
ing regulation boots had en-
tered the house that morning.
He followed the track away
from the house until it was
lost in a dusty thoroughfare.
So two other trackers were
called in and shown the foot-
prints near the house. Then
the company of soldiers was
paraded and marched in single
line across a prepared piece
of ground swept clean. The
three trackers were then taken,
one by one, to the parade-
ground and told to spot the
track of the thief. Without
hesitation all three of them
pointed out the same track.
A few searching questions and
the man was convicted.

Such a case is straight-
forward and simple. The fol-
lowing is a better example of
the skill that can be displayed
by the professional. Early one
morning the officer in charge
of a station was told that a
soldier of the garrison had
been found murdered about a
mile outside the town. He
sent at once for his tracker,
and together they went to the
eeene of the crime. The man
had been killed by the down-
ward stab of a knife in the
throat. The tracker examined
the ground round the body,
then set off towards the town,

170

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

following some tracks only just
discernible to the white man.
After walking some distance
in silence he stopped and said,
"One man walked out with
the murdered man, and they
sat down together near the
spot where the killing was
done. They were followed by
a third man, who joined them.
The first man left after this
one arrived, and walked home
alone. It was the last man
to arrive who committed the
murder. He walked straight
on to the town, the other
man went straight towards
the barracks over there. That
track can wait ; we will follow
the murderer's." Those were
bold statements, but he made
them not believing but know-
ing them to be correct. It
was all told as a matter-of-
fact tale about which there
could be no doubt. The mur-
derer's track was accordingly
followed; it led to a hut in
the village. After a quick
look round the tracker in-
structed a policeman in attend-
ance to dig at a certain spot.
At a short distance below
ground he came upon a blood-
stained shirt. Holding this up
the tracker said, "A tall man
taller than the murdered
man. The blood has spurted
on to his chest." The occu-
pant of the hut, when placed
under arrest as accessory, at
once blurted out the name of
the soldier who had buried the
shirt there the previous night,
but said he knew nothing more
about the matter. The tracker
then picked up the trail again,
and followed it until it was
lost in the paved courtyard

of a barrack section. This
confirmed the tale of the
occupant of the hut, that the
murderer was another soldier.
If there had been no further
clue it would have been neces-
sary to proceed to an exam-
ination of the tracks of all
the occupants of that part of
the barracks. But the hour
at which this man had re-
turned to barracks, and the
existence of a deadly feud
between them, clinched the
matter. Finally, as a matter
of form, the tracker picked
out his footprints from among
half a dozen, and in due course
he paid the penalty.

An interesting point in con-
nection with the escape of
Slatin Pasha, after his twelve
years' captivity in Omdurman,
was told to me by an Arab

fuide in my employ. When
latin's flight was discovered,
this man with two others were
sent off, mounted on three of
the Khalifa's finest camels, to
find out what direction he
had taken. The tracks of the
camels on which Slatin and
his native friends from Egypt
were mounted were picked up
close to his dwelling, and lost
presently on the dusty main
road. So the three trackers
oast in a semicircle to pick
up the tracks farther on.
Now my guide and one of the
others, because of a friendly
feeling towards him, had de-
cided to give Slatin a sporting
chance to escape without
endangering their own necks.
The third man was loyal to
the Khalifa. And they man-
aged to work the business as
follows. Very soon they crossed

1918.]

The Nomad's Sixth Sense.

171

the tracks they were looking
for. If this news had been
at once taken back, S latin's
chance of escape would have
been small. The loyal tracker
insisted, quite correctly, that
these were the tracks they
were looking for. But the
other two asserted that he
was wrong ; and two prevailed
against one, though the one
was sadly puzzled to under-
stand how he could be mis-
taken in recognising a camel
spoor that he had seen only
that morning. So the three

continued on their way, and
six hours later again out the
tracks, after travelling in a
semicircle away from Omdur-
man. This time all three
agreed about the spoor (still
further puzzling the loyalist),
and started back with their
information. Correct news
was then given to the Khalifa ;
all three trackers were safe;
but Slatin had twelve extra
hours' start, and those precious
extra hours probably made all
the difference between success
and failure.

THE NOMAD'S SIXTH SENSE.

Mankind is said to possess
five senses. The degree of
development to which these
attain depend wholly on en-
vironment and circumstance,
The aouteness of the senses
of sight and hearing possessed
by the dweller in open spaces
far surpasses that of the city
man; but the senses of the
city man, who is transferred
to the wilderness, will slowly
but surely improve.

It is not to be wondered at
that the nomad who has never
dwelt in cities, and feels lost
when visiting one, possesses an
aouteness of senses that the
white man can never hope to
attain. In such matters as
tracking, the white man can
improve beyond belief by prao-
tioe, if he concentrates on it
and learns to think like an
animal when following it by
its tracks. But the nomad
tracks without thinking, and
as often as not cannot explain
to you why he has come to

certain conclusions. The marks
on the ground are an open
book to him; the white man
at best is translating a rather
difficult "unseen." Men have
been hanged on the evidence
of trackers.

More remarkable still than
his powers of tracking is what
I call the nomad's sixth sense
his sense of direction: this
is almost entirely lost to the
more highly civilised.

Suppose that, in unknown
country with no distinctive
features to act as guiding
points, you leave camp A
and walk several miles to B,
then change direction and
walk to C. By taking corn-
pass bearings, &o., of your
route, you might be able to
find your way back from C
to A. But tell an Arab with
you to guide you back, and
he will do it : how, he cannot
explain ; he just knows that
camp A lies in that direction.
Or, make a mark in the

172

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

ground at C ; months per-
haps years afterwards your
Arab will lead you straight
back to it.

This is not an acquired skill.
A small boy who had been
brought from El Obeid, vid
Khartum, to Kassala towns
a few hundred miles apart
from each other pointed out
immediately on being asked
in what directions Khartum
and El Obeid lay. He had
not been educated, and a
map would have had no
meaning for him. Imagine
an English boy, taken from
London to Aberdeen, and
thenoe to Dublin, pointing
out the directions in which
the former places lay !

Many a time in my wander-
ings I benefited by this sense
of direction of the native.
The following is a striking
illustration. Happening to be
about twenty miles distant
from the undiscovered junc-
tion of two important rivers,
I decided to try to find it
and fix its position on the
map. Luok was with me all
the way. From a native en-
campment near by I obtained
the services of two natives,
who said they could guide
me to the junction; and the
same afternoon at 3 P.M. we
started.

Our route lay all the way
through acacia forest, over
badly cracked cotton soil.
There was no sign of a track,
and I have never seen any-
thing more uniform in lack of
features than that forest. The
guides led the way ; I followed
about fifty yards behind, com-
pass in one hand and watch in
the other, in order to make a

rough open traverse of our
course. Behind me came my
transport the camels floun-
dering badly in the cracked
soil. Every few hundred
yards I checked the com-
pass bearing on which the
guides were walking, and it
was marvellously constant.
There were no guiding marks
or distinguishing features of
any sort the view in any
direction being limited by the
forest to a quarter of a mile at
the outside. About 6 o'clock
the guides stopped, and said
that if I stood up on my camel
I might be able to see, through
the tree tops, a hog - backed
hill in a certain direction.
They were correct: there it
was, just visible, half a mile or
so away. Before starting off
again, I emptied a tin of
tobacco into my pouch and
threw away the tin. One of
the guides picked it up and
placed it in the fork of a tree,
saying that he would return
for it some day. That tree
was exactly like any other of
the millions around us, yet
that man knew that he could
find it when he wanted to.

When we started again, still
that unvarying direction. The
sun set, and presently we
were marching by the light of
the young moon. But nothing
upset those wizards. About
8 o'clock we halted for the
night.

As there was no moon to
help me to read my compass
in the morning, I delayed the
start until there was sufficient
daylight, getting under way
at 6 A.M. And still that
undeviating course. About 8
o'clock they halted, and told

1918.]

Fighting the Mosquito.

173

me to look, from camel baok,
for a double-topped hill to the
right of the course. There it
was, exactly where they said
it would be. On starting
again, they changed course
about 30, and an hour later
we suddenly emerged from the
forest at the edge of the
plateau. And there, 200 feet
below us, and a couple of miles
away, were three silver threads

the two rivers and their
combined stream. Well in-
deed had they guided me, to
this clearing right above the
junction : but how ?

Abyssinian mountains in the
far distance gave me deter-
mined points by which to fix
the position of the junction
and stream courses, and an-
other doubtful point on the
map was cleared up.

FIGHTING THE MOSQUITO,

When the French, after their
brilliant execution of the Suez
Canal, undertook to construct
the Panama Canal, nobody
could foresee that their enter-
prise would end in failure.
Had they not the experience
of the previous work to
guide them, a trained per-
sonnel of splendid engineers,
and unlimited public confid-
ence to help them? And yet
they failed. The cause of
failure was chiefly ascribed to
the difficulty in obtaining
labour, and this was due to
the known large sick -rate and
heavy mortality among those
on the works. What they
did not know was that their
defeat was, first and last,
caused by a mosquito or
rather, two mosquitoes. Their
medical and hospital arrange-
ments were, for that period,
splendid. Mosquitoes were,
like any other buzzing and
biting insects^ looked upon
merely as a nuisance; and to
limit the nuisance they used
netting to some extent. They
put down the two main sick-
nesses that filled their hospi-
tals and emptied their gangs

to the inherent unhealthiness
of the district, to the very
vague miasmic vapours that
rose up out of the scrub and
swamps at night, causing in
some indefinite way the twin
pests of malaria and yellow
fever. They knew no better;
the world in general knew
no better; and they were
defeated.

Too late for them came
Pasteur and a host of other
investigators, gradually prov-
ing beyond dispute the miorobio
origin of disease. The anti-
viviseotionists railed ; but these
benefactors of mankind, and of
the animal world as well, held
on their way, discovering the
specific germ of one disease
after another. With the or-
ganism determined, they did
not rest from their labours :
the battle was only joined.
The next step was to find
out how the organism was
introduced into the body, so
that its entrance might as far
as possible be prevented ; and
how, when introduced, it might
be combated and rendered in-
nocuous.

Among those diseases in-

174

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

vestigated, and conquered,
were malaria and yellow fever
the plagues that had defeated
the French at Panama. It was
found that in the case of each,
one particular breed of mos-
quito, and no other, was re-
sponsible for spreading the
disease, for carrying it from
the infected to the healthy.
The mosquito itself by its
bite did not cause the disease ;
it merely acted as host, When
biting the infected, it took into
its organisation the microbe
that caused the disease ; in its
organisation alone could the
microbe live while in transit,
so to speak; then when it
transferred its affections to
another human body, and bit
deep, the microbe was able to
pass and so carry, or rather
cause, the new infection. To
cause an epidemic, therefore,
of malaria or yellow fever, all
that was necessary was some
one infected with the disease
and a goodly supply of the
particular brand of mosqui-
toes to spread the infection.
With that much known, there
was some chance of fighting
the diseases. Antitoxins were
discovered to fight the poison
in the blood; but, as preven-
tion is always better than
cure, it was obvious that the
best and most certain way of
combating the diseases was by
waging ruthless war against
the mosquito. To do this the
life history and habit of the
mosquito had to be carefully
studied. After these investiga-
tions had been carried out, and
methods for exterminating the
mosquito in any particular area
had been proved, the Ameri-
cans undertook the completion

of the Panama Canal, and suc-
ceeded. With the mosquito
laid by the heels, their task
became a straightforward en-
gineering proposition.

In the far-away period before
the war it fell to the lot of an
official to undertake the pre-
liminary works for the construc-
tion of a large dam on the
Upper Nile in a district that
was notoriously malarial, so
much so that it was foreseen
that sickness was one of the
serious difficulties that would
have to be contended against.
In the scattered native villages
around the site malaria was
rife. Tests had shown that
even infants only a fortnight
old were already infected.
By a process of acquired
immunity the natives become
in the course of time little
affected by the disease; they
were, however, just as po-
tent sources of infection, and
malaria's particular mosquito,
the Anopheles, was there in
abundance.

If the work could have been
carried out with immune local
labour all would have been
fairly simple, but it was alto-
gether deficient both in num-
bers and quality. So labour
amounting to anything up to
5000 men would have to be im-
ported from the healthy north-
ern regions of the Sudan and
from Egypt, with a considerable
proportion of Europeans for
supervision and the more skilled
parts of the work. If these
went sick in shoals it would
be disastrous as disastrous as
the experience of the French
at Panama. But there was
the knowledge acquired since
those days to help, and the

1918.]

Fighting the Mosquito.

175

praotioal applioatiou of the
knowledge as proved by the
Americans.

The facts, fatal to the Ano-
pheles, that had been established
were shortly these. He can
breed only in stagnant water.
If that water is overgrown
with weeds so much the better.
The period from the time when
the mosquito lays her eggs
until her offspring emerges from
the water is about fourteen
days. The length of flight in
still air is only about half a
mile from water. As he is
low-powered, he hates a breeze.
Nice stagnant air to fly in, after
nice stagnant water to breed
in, is his ideal.

Armed with these facts, the
official set to work to make the
site of the dam so uncomfort-
able, or impossible, for the
mosquito that he would quit
business in the district. Two
things he insisted on that he
should be given the funds he
required, and that he should
have absolutely despotic power,
as regards their habitations,
over all who lived within two
miles of the site. These con-
ditions were granted. When
operations were started in win-
ter mosquito nets at night were
essential. Within a oouple of
months they became super-
fluous.

With a party of five hundred
men, all forest scrub and grass
were out and burnt over the
prescribed area, and pools at
the river's edge were filled in
or drained, and native wells
filled up : they could go to the
Nile for their water, or leave
the area, as they chose. An
area of well over 10,000 acres
had thus been made quite un-

inhabitable for the mosquito;
there remained only the possi-
bility of his being given a lift
into the heart of the area, and
then finding harbourage in
some household jar or vessel
for holding water. To prevent
this possibility, the despotic
powers again came in. It was
laid down that every house-
holder of every description,
from the lowliest description to
the official himself, must on
Sunday see that all water re-
ceptacles in his house were
emptied and dried in the sun.
To ensure that the order was
obeyed, house-to-house inspec-
tion by the despot or his dele-
gate was made, and a scale of
fines laid down for the offender.
The extreme period of harbour-
age for a mosquito, imported
by accident, was thus some-
thing less than seven days, so
that propagation was impos-
sible.

By these means the mosquito
was completely eliminated from
the area occupied for the works.
But this had all happened in
the dry season, during the early
months of the year. The real
test would come during the
rains, which last from about
the end of June until the
middle of September. In this
period it is quite possible for
two, or even three, inches of
rain to fall during one night,
converting any small hollows
that may be found into tempo-
rary miniature lakes. A chain
of these, less than half a mile
apart from each other, might
easily act as a "line of com-
munioation," by which the
mosquito might enter the for-
bidden zone. So detailed sur-
veys were carried out in every

176

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

direction, to discover all such
hollows ; and then drainage
lines were cut, connecting them
with the river, so that all water
that collected in the hollows
might run away quickly, and
so cut the mosquito's communi-
cations.

When the rains came there
were about 2500 men in the
camp, including about 100
Europeans. Practically none
of these had had malaria, and
it was the official's ambition
that there should be no oases of
fresh infection among them.
The rains were about normal,
while the river was above
normal, so that the drains were
tested under difficult condi-
tions. But they kept the
hollows clear of water, while
gangs of men waged incessant
warfare against the rank
growth of grass.

The outbreak of the Great
War put a stop to the works.
In the middle of September
the closing down of the camp
started, and by the middle of
October it was emptied of all
except watchmen and suchlike.
But the rainy season had come
and gone before then ; the
mosquito had been foiled ; not
a single case of malaria had
occurred among the imported
labour. They say it is safe to
argue from large numbers.
As already stated, the cajnp
consisted of about 2500 men.
And as these had been safely
carried through a wet season,
in a malarial district, without
infection, proof was afforded, if
proof was still necessary, that
the mosquito is a very second-
rate adversary if proper
measures to fight him are
adopted.

DIVERSE DUTIES.

The more highly civilised a
country becomes, the more is
the work of every one special-
ised. Man becomes a machine,
of high or low grade according
to his ability, doing the same
thing or same nature of thing,
hour after hour and year after
year. This doubtless makes
for efficiency (accursed word)
and monotony. But so much
is efficiency prized by the high-
grade machine that I once
heard the head of a large
manufacturing firm say that
the methods of the old Arab
slave- dealers were most in-
efficient, because they lost
somewhere about 30 per cent
of their wares when taking
them to market; if they had

travelled slower and looked
after their captives better,
they would have been able to
deliver a much higher per-
centage of their goods at their
destination. And this highly
respectable town councillor
and, I think, church -warden
was not jesting; he was able
to regard the abominable
traffic from a purely com-
mercial point of view. That
was his practice, to reduce
everything to rates and per-
centages, and so arrive at
indices of efficiency. But my
manufacturer did not consider
himself to be pitied in any
way ; in fact, sunny self-
satisfaction was his leading
characteristic, coupled with a

1918.]

Diverse Duties.

177

prodigious capacity for carry-
ing on a one-sided conversation
on thoroughly uninteresting
subjects, with an endurance of
100 per cent efficiency. He
is, alas ! too old to fight ;
otherwise the war might have
been his salvation. Though
even that is improbable. His
efficiency-monomania was so in-
grained that he probably would
have stopped in the middle of
an attack to work out the rela-
tive effectiveness of machine-
gun and rapid rifle fire.

In a backward country
specialisation to any high
degree is impossible. The
native worker must be able
to turn his hand to a score
of different trades : he must
be his own carpenter, though
his only tool may be an axe;
he must be his own saddler;
he must be his own tiller of
the soil ; he must be his own
butcher and cook; he must,
in short, be able to undertake
everything that is necessary
for his own existence. And
so, also, the official overseeing
such a people must be able
to carry out a very varied
assortment of 'functions. It
may appear to the high-grade
merchant or globe-trotter from
home that he carries out none
of his duties with 100 per
cent efficiency : that he is an
amateur trying to impersonate
a number of very different
characters at one and the same
time. But it is easy, in such
matters, to criticise. If the
groove- worn specialist tried his
hand at the game, he would
probably find, to his surprise,
that while he was studying
some small detail with metio-

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

ulous care, he was failing hope-
lessly to deal with much larger
essentials. He might come to
realise that high specialisation
is impossible when one must
be a jaok-of-all-trades, and he
might even appreciate the
advantages of more variety
in work with less perfect
efficiency.

In the Sudan an official
must know a little about
everything, with a good deal
about something. The civil
servant, besides administering
justice, must be able, from his
knowledge of crops, to increase
or remit taxation; he may be
called upon at any time to
act as doctor or surgeon ; he
must be able to give advice
on improved methods of culti-
vation; he must be prepared
to put forward schemes of
engineering to benefit his dis-
trict one way or another; if
his duties take him into little-
known parts of the country,
he will be expected to pro-
duce maps and reports on the
country traversed ; and so on.
He may have been a specialist,
by profession, in some one of
the multitude of duties that
it will fall to his lot to per-
form. His special knowledge
will soon become blunted
amidst his varied activities;
but he will acquire an assort-
ment of skill in other direc-
tions, in order that the native,
who expects the white man
to know everything, will not
be disappointed when he asks
for advice or help or a decision
on some important point.

The possibility of having to
deal with all sorts of different
questions at short notice is,
M

178

Silhouettes from the Sudan.

[Feb.

when all is said and done, one
of the charms of life in such
a country as the Sudan, and
goes far to compensate one
for the manifold discomforts
that must be endured. Take
the following day's work as
an example. I was travelling
by camel, far beyond the point
to which the railway had been
carried at that time, following
the course of one of the south-
ern rivers, and had reached a
place above which I was in-
structed to search the river
bed and banks for some miles
for any outcrop of rook that
might indicate possible foun-
dations for a dam. As there
was no track by the river that
the camels oould follow, I had
to do my work on foot, and
therefore made a start as soon
as it was daylight, to avoid
having to travel in the extreme
heat of the day, while I pushed
my way through the scrub and
jungle at the edge of the river.
The camels kept to the higher
ground inland, where there
was a out track through
the forest ; and connection
was maintained between me
and my transport by one
mounted oamelman, who reg-
ulated the pace of the trans-
port according to the progress
I made. (To lose one's trans-
port in such country, even for
half a day, is a calamity.) It
was slow hot work on foot,
but always interesting. Croco-
diles slipped off the sand-
banks into deep water as I
approached, and monkeys in
myriads swarmed up the larger
trees and gibbered as I passed,
while there was always some-
thing new and curious to note
in the scrub. But my search

for rook failed; nothing was
to be seen but crumbling mud-
banks and sandy shoals in the
river-bed. So towards midday
I called in my transport, and
halted for lunch and rest until
the worst of the heat of the
day was over before getting
under way again.

My next objective was a
small native settlement about
twenty miles farther up the
river, where an enterprising
sheikh was growing a patch
of cotton from special Egyptian
seed given to him by Gov-
ernment. A report on the
appearance of the crop was
wanted. Starting at about
3 o'clock, and riding fast by
the inland track, I hoped to
reach the settlement by 7 P.M.,
in comfortable time to camp
there for the night. So I
was in no humour to stop for
trivialities when, on passing
a native village about 5
o'clock, the sheikh ran out to
intercept me. But his first
words showed that the busi-
ness to be dealt with was far
from trivial. As I sat on my
camel he told me in few words
that there had been a fight
between two men one was
killed and the other seriously
wounded he had sent off a
messenger to the District
Officer (thirty miles away) to
obtain authority to bury the
slain man, but his messenger
oould not return or bring the
officer until the following
afternoon, therefore would I
stop and deal with the case?
There was nothing else for it,
my time-table must be aban-
doned, and I accompanied the
sheikh to the village after
telling my head-bey to halt

1918.]

Diverse Duties.

179

the camels and get out writ-
ing materials and my medicine
chest. A short examination
of the victim showed that
he was dead, with his skull
split open. Next I saw the
wounded man and heard his
story. In the morning their
flocks had met, and an argu-
ment had arisen as regards
which flock a particular sheep
belonged to. (It was not a
question of how many sheep
there were in each flock : a
Sudan shepherd knows every
sheep in his flock without dis-
tinctive markings of any kind.)
From words they had come to
blows, fighting with the short
narrow -headed axes that the
Arabs carry, and he had killed
his man, after being seriously
wounded and nearly spent, by
a lucky blow at his head. He
told his story in a weak voice,
lying on an angareb, while
I washed and dressed his
wounds. Meanwhile a camp
table and chair had been placed,
with writing materials, in the
shadow of a tree at the edge of
the village. First, I gave the
sheikh written authority to
bury the dead man ; this he
passed to his Wakil with orders
to carry out the interment at
once. Then I made out a
statement of the facts of the
case as I had gleaned them to
serve as a preliminary inquiry,
and instructed the sheikh to
take this, with the wounded
man on a donkey, to the Dis-
trict Headquarters, where, after
treatment in hospital, the man
would have to stand his trial
for manslaughter. Meanwhile
the sheikh would be respon-
sible for the custody of the
prisoner until handed over to

the civil authority. All this
had to be put down in writing
and copies taken, so that it
was past 6 o'clock before I got
under way again ; and, after
travelling for about an hour, I
camped for the night. I started
off at dawn, and when nearing
my destination where the cotton
was to be inspected, I overtook
the village sheikh with the
wounded man. He had trav-
elled slowly through the night
for the good of his patient
rather than expose him to the
heat of the sun. Stopping my
camel, I examined him, not as
a magistrate but as a medical
man, and finding that he was
standing the journey all right,
I told the sheikh to carry on.

I spent a happy hour with
my agricultural friend, found
that he had carried out the
instructions as regards the
methods of cultivation thor-
oughly, and that the cotton
was promising well. Incident-
ally, such experiments are of
the greatest value, for they may
prove that cotton of first-class
quality can be grown over vast
areas of the Southern Sudan
as a rain crop, and therefore
without any outlay of capital
on the part of the Government
in the shape of expensive irri-
gation works.

Two days later I arrived at
the Headquarters of the Pro-
vince, handed in my cepies of
the papers in connection with
the killing, made out reports
on the various objects of my
journey, and after a few days
in comfortable surroundings
set off again to work out a new
route to a village about seventy
miles away across uncharted
country of swamp and forest.

180

[Feb

THE IRISH REBELLION OF "FORTY-EIGHT."

I. THE TIDE OF REVOLUTION.

THE rapid multiplication of
Sinn Fein Clubs in Ireland sets
students of history thinking,
and suggests parallels from the
past. We have had Leagues
and Federations galore in Ire-
land for the past half century,
we oan almost mark the
deoades by them : the Tenant
Bight League, the Land
League, the Irish National
League, the Irish National
Federation, the United Irish
League, but for a previous
organisation of clubs over-
spreading the country we
must go back to Smith
O'Brien's Rebellion of 1848.

"Forty-eight" was a year
of revolutions. From end to
end of Europe there was
political unrest ; it would have
been strange if Ireland had
escaped the fever, for the soil
and the conditions were con-
genial for an outbreak. A
few years earlier Disraeli had
epigrammatioally summed up
the situation: "A starving
population, an absentee aris-
tocracy, an alien church, and,
in addition, the weakest ex-
ecutive in the world there is
the Irish question." On top
of this came the famine the
Great Hunger, and the black
'47. The " Clubs " of '48 were
borrowed from the French
model. Indeed, it would be
safe to say that, but for the
coup d'etat of February '48 in
France, there would have been
no collision of July '48 in

Ireland. "The red fool-fury
of the Seine" found its echo
by the Liffey and the Shannon
shore. For a second time, as
in 1789, France had "stamped
her strong foot and said she
would be free." Ireland would
do the same. As the French
cataclysm of 1789 and the
September massacres of '93
led on to the United Irishmen
and " '98," so the French up-
heaval of 1848 had its counter-
part in Ireland in the Confed-
erate Clubs and the escapade
in the Cabbage-garden. Young
Ireland was swept off its feet
by the happenings in Paris.
From platform and press eager
tongues and eager pens pro-
claimed that the time was
come "to set old Ireland free."
So men began to "fraternise"
and form Clubs, to wear the
tricolor and talk of barricades,
and generally to imitate the
vivacious people by the Seine.
Those blessed words, " Liberty,
Equality, Fraternity," were
in all men's mouths, and
the greatest of them was
Liberty :

" Yes, Ireland will be free
From the centre to the sea,
Then hurrah for Liberty !
Says the Shan Van Vocht."

But the stamping of the
Confederates in '48 was a
very different thing from the
stamping of their sturdy pre-
cursors of half a century be-
fore, just as Wolfe Tone, most

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty-Eight."

181

thorough- paoed and clever of
rebels, was a different man
from Smith O'Brien. The
eponymous leader of the '48
it is generally known as
Smith O'Brien's rebellion
was one of the strangest figures
in all the stormy periods of
Irish politics. A man of a dif-
ferent type, but one who like
O'Brien was generally in revolt,
Haziitt, said of himself, " I
started with the Revolution."
O'Brien might have said the
same. He was born in 1803,
the year of Robert Emmet's
rising, five years after the
horrors of " Ninety-Eight," and
less than three after the Union,
which changed the form of
government but did not change
men's hearts or dispositions.
He grew up to boyhood in the
turbulent times of the Conti-
nental wars, when Ireland
touched the lowest depths of
lawlessness, when Coercion Acts
were hardy annuals, and sus-
pension of Habeas Corpus was
frequent. He was twenty-five
when O'Connell won the Clare
election which led to Catholic
Emancipation. A born aristo-
crat, a child of Ireland's most
ancient race, he derived in
direct descent from Brian the
Brave, who won Clontarf
against the Danes in 1014.
From that date for five cen-
turies the lauv laudher, the
strong hand of the O'Briens,
was generally uppermost when-
ever there was any fighting to
be done. In Henry VIII.'s
time they exchanged their royal
dignity and rude independence
for English titles and English
protection. King of Munster
gave place to Earl of Thomond

and Baron Inchiquin ; but the
fighting spirit remained. Dur-
ing the Civil War, 1643-48,
Colonel Connor O'Brien held
Leamenagh Castle, one of their
strongholds in Clare, against
the Parliamentary troops, and
lost his life in doing so. His
widow, Maire Ruadh, Red Mary,
of whom thrilling tales are
still told by cabin firesides in
County Clare, saved the heredi-
tary property by marrying one
of Cromwell's officers.

From such a stock sprang
William Smith O'Brien, the
pathetic figure of "Forty-
Eight." Wayward, fitful, ro-
mantic, visionary, a man of
high probity, he was never
bought or sold. He displeased
all parties because he would
" stoop for no man's lure." " I
honestly avow," said his ad-
vocate Whiteside, " I was pre-
judiced against all his opinions,
and at one time thought him
an obstinate, impracticable,
absurd man, with whom no one
could agree." No one had less
to gain or more to lose by play-
ing the rebel. It is idle to
ascribe his course of action to
vanity, as is sometimes done.
That he had a passionate love
for his country, and that he
honestly believed her to be
abominably treated, is clear.
This and some stern inexorable
'Avdy/crj " no one can be more
wise than Destiny" may ex-
plain the position in which he
found himself in the summer
of '48. For it was not till the
eleventh hour, as will presently
appear, that he declared for
open rebellion.

O'Brien out adrift from his
party and his family oonnec-

182

The Irish Rebellion of "forty-Bight."

[Feb.

tions in 1843, and joined the
Repealers, but he was never
comfortable under O'Connell's
aegis, and in 1846, the year of
the Liberator's death, he iden-
tified himself directly with the
Young Ireland movement, ably
led by Davis and Duffy, who
found that O'ConnelPs "tail"
wagged too slowly for them.

In January 1847, the awful
year of the Famine, when thou-
sands died of hunger, and a
quarter of a million of people
fled the country in dismay,
an association was founded in
Dublin the Irish Federation
whose leading spirits were
O'Brien, Meagher, Dillon,
O'Gorman, Doheny, the same
men who afterwards took the
lead on the hillsides of Tip-
perary. During that year the
organisation was fairly active
and gathered strength, but
early in '48 it received a
strong fillip from the outbreak
of February 24 in France. It
was O'Brien's conviction that,
"if events be favourable abroad,
we have it in our power to win
the restoration of the Irish
Parliament in this country
within twelve months." But
for the moment "what he
would highly that would he
holily," and while Mitchel was
advocating " a deliberate study
of the theory and practice of
guerilla warfare," O'Brien con-
sidered it would be consummate
rashness to attempt an imme-
diate appeal to arms. The in-
surrection, he admitted, would
be put down in a week (a fairly
accurate forecast of the actual
revolt subsequently), and the
Government could starve the
people by stopping the supplies

of food which were necessarily
derived from abroad.

When he first became a Re-
pealer, he declared that the
man who adopted measures
which might cost the life of
a single human being incurred
a fearful responsibility, which
nothing but the gravest ex-
tremities of national danger
could sanction. A month of
civil war would produce incal-
culable miseries to all classes
of the population. In January
1847 he says, "I have repeat-
edly denounced the fatuity and
wickedness of resorting to
physical force, except upon
such occasions as would afford
a full justification for its exer-
cise in accordance with the
views of the soundest moral-
ists and the best writers on
the British Constitution." And
as late as February '48 he
proposed a series of resolutions
in the Irish Confederation, one
of which ran, "That to hold
out to the Irish people the
hope that in this present
broken and divided condition
they can liberate their country
by an appeal to arms, and con-
sequently to divert them from
constitutional action, would be
in our opinion a fatal misdirec-
tion of the public mind." The
keynote of these resolutions
(there were eight) was "that
this Confederation was estab-
lished to attain an Irish Parlia-
ment by the combination of
classes and by the force of
opinion exercised in constitu-
tional operations, and that no
means of a contrary character
can be recommended or pro-
moted through its organisation
while its present fundamental

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty- Eight."

183

rules remain unaltered." In
constitutional operations we
are still a world away from
the barricades at Killenaule
and the widow M'Cormaok's
oabbage- patch.

Then came the coup d'e'tat
of 24th February in France.
Events began to move more
rapidly. A newer and a bolder
tone was evident at a meet-
ing in Dublin on March 15.
Words like "fraternity," "the
barricades," "the queen of
weapons, the pike," are con-
spicuous in the oratory. " Fra-
ternity " is to be the new note
fraternity between Southern
Catholics and Protestant far-
mers of the North, who used
to be inveterate Orangemen,
but were beginning to fear
for their tenant right; fra-
ternity with the English
Repealers ; fraternity with the
soldiers, they did not neces-
sarily put off all instincts of
humanity when they put on
a red ooat, and were not the
Scottish soldiers, the High-
land regiments, like the Irish
themselves, children of the
Gael ? fraternity with the
police very deftly was the
net spread in the sight of
that particular bird. "You
have been in the habit of
looking on the police force,
many of you, as a hostile
force. I say that sentiment
ought to be discharged from
your bosoms. The police force
are Irishmen like yourselves.
There are ten thousand of
them. They are as fine a
body of men as ever held a
musket, and if their energies
were properly directed they
would become the safeguard

of this country. I will not
invite you to regard them as
your enemies. Of course, as
long as the present state of
things exists they are quite
sure of losing their places if
they should manifest any sym-
pathy with the people; but
if they knew that the time
was rapidly coming when
every exertion made by such
a force as that to vindicate
the freedom of this country
would be appreciated and
prized and become the sub-
ject of future honour through-
out all generations to them
and their posterity, I cannot
believe that ten thousand
Irishmen clad in their native
green would be found the
enemies of Irishmen." The
meeting punctuated these re-
marks with loud applause.

O'Brien also insisted on
the importance of fraternising
with the people of the United
States and of the formation
of an Irish brigade in America,
ready disciplined and enrolled
to form the nucleus of an
Irish army, to return to the
country when repeal was won,
and to serve for the defence
and guardianship of their
native land. It is worthy of
note that already that close
sympathy between America
certain sections of America
and Ireland, which has char-
acterised all the later phases
of political agitation, was
established and first became
conspicuous in the famine
years. "We have had abun-
dant evidence, at the time
when it appeared to the in-
habitants of that country that
the agitation was likely to

184 The Irish Rebellion of " Forty-Eight" [Feb.

produce serious fruits we placarded on every police

have had abundant evidence, barrack in Ireland, which in-

by testimonies of sympathy dicated that the Government

and large remittances of had little fault to find with

money, that the people of its terms. F6ted in Dublin

the United States cordially on 15th April on their return,

sympathised with us in the O'Brien, producing the Volun-

struggle." teer flag of '82, suggested

But to fraternise was not that it might become the flag
enough. He thought it most of the National Guard of '48.
desirable that all intelligent In the previous week, on 10th
young men, especially those April, he had made his last
engaged in engineering and speech in the House of Corn-
surveying and similar pur- mons during the debate on
suits, should "apply their the second reading of the
minds to the best methods Treason Felony Bill, and
of taking strong places and warned the Government that
defending weak ones." These if Irish claims for a separate
would form a portion of the Legislature were refused dur-
sappers and miners of the ing the present year they
future Irish army. Meagher, would have to encounter the
a younger man and more chance of a republic in Ire-
audacious, went one better, land. He candidly admitted
He proposed that delegates be that he had been instrumental
sent over to London to de- in asking his countrymen to
mand an audience of the arm.

Queen. If yielded, then they The Treason Felony Bill

should implore Her Majesty, passed into law on April 22.

by virtue of her royal pre- Seditious speeches at that

rogative, to establish a par- time were only misdemeanours

liament in Dublin; if refused? in Ireland, although treason

Up the barricades and let the in England ; and as seditious

god of battles decide I speeches and writings were be-

A few days later O'Brien, coming plentiful, with a view
Meagher, and O'Gorman were to stem the tide the Treason
appointed as a deputation to Felony Act was passed, which
convey a congratulatory mes- made it a felony in both
sage to the Provisional Gov- countries to compass, imagine,
eminent in France. They or levy war against the
went, and returned early Queen, and to express such
in April. Lamartine received intention by open and ad-
them kindly, and gave them vised speaking, or the publi-
a soft answer so happily cation of any printed or
framed as to satisfy both the written document. The Act
deputation and the British was soon dubbed "The Gag-
Government. He had no in- ging Act " by the Confederates,
tention of interfering in the Its first victim was John
domestic policy of England. Mitchel, who, early in May,
A copy of his reply was was brought to trial for oer-

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight."

185

tain articled published in the
* United Irishman.* He was
convicted and sentenced to
transportation for fourteen
years. More than any single
event Mitohel's conviction
hastened the outbreak. From
that date it was only a ques-
tion of selecting a suitable
time, of counting the proba-
bilities of success. On the
jury that convicted Mitohel
there was not one Catholic.
"All men," says O'Brien, "felt
that the sacred institution of
trial by jury had been dar-
ingly violated, and that, even
though his legal guilt might
be undeniable, he had been
deprived most unjustifiably of
a fair trial." A number of
Mitohel's friends Meagher
being foremost were resolved
to effect his rescue, and this
was to be the signal for a
general rising. Big words
were used and sanguinary
pictures painted. If Mitohel
left Green Street in a felon's
van, it would be over a hurdle
of Irish bodies. The vessel
that carried off John Mitchel
as a convict would have to
cleave its way through an
ocean of Irish blood. Despite
these protestations, the felon's
van conveyed its burden from
Green Street in due course,
without encountering a hurdle
on the way; and the Shear-
water sailed with Mitchel, the
fiery apostle of the new gospel,
on board, yet no effusion of
Confederate blood incarna-
dined the green waters of
Dublin Bay.

There is little doubt, how-
ever, that but for O'Brien's
exertions there would have

been a rising then and there.
In an address of the Con-
federation Council to the
Irish people on June 1
O'Brien in the chair he says :
" We will not conceal from
you we will not conceal from
the Government that no-
thing but the most strenuous
exertions of our Council pre-
vented the outbreak of an
insurrection last week. Thou-
sands of brave men had
resolved that John Mitchel
should not leave the Irish
shore except across their
corpses. We apprehended that
under present circumstances
an armed attempt to rescue
him and to free Ireland might
have proved abortive ; we
therefore interposed, and with
difficulty succeeded in pre-
venting the fruitless effusion
of blood." The hope of
an amicable adjustment be-
tween England and Ireland
was melting away, and he
felt bound to tell them that
the indignities and wrongs
heaped on them were fast
bringing them to " that
period when armed resistance
to the oppressors of our
country will become a sacred
obligation enforced by the
highest sanctions of public
duty."

Early in June a determined
effort was made to combine
the Federation with the party
of Conciliation Hall, led by
John O'Connell, the Liberator's
son, and to begin in a new
Irish League a new, speedy,
and definite struggle for in-
dependence. Moral force and
physical force were to stand
henceforth on the same plat-

186

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight ."

[Feb.

form. This fusion was not
brought about without some
difficulty; indeed there never
was any real fusion at all.
O'Connell was politely referred
to by the extreme men as the
" huckster of expediences " ;
and when he talked of moral
force, they replied with " moral
force with a hook" as the
only force that would tell. A
fortnight later, when the
clubs were spreading like
wildfire over the land,
O'Connell urged Young Ire-
land to shun them and their
childishly useless organisation :
"Don't risk imprisonment for
the sake of learning the goose-
step and drilling in a loft."

The rapid spread of the
clubs was due mainly to one
man. In the last week of
June, when the path of re-
volution was becoming a
slippery one for O'Brien, he
received a letter which was
designedly calculated to ac-
celerate his pace and bring
him to the brink of the pre-
cipice. It was from Charles
Gavan Daffy, who week by
week, in the pages of 'The
Nation/ was pouring thick
and fast those burning words
on "The Business of To-day"
which intoxicated Young Ire-
land and set it reeling. Duffy,
like many others, had been
caught in the French mael-
strom. When the French
Revolution raised the hopes
of Ireland in a speedy de-
liverance, he asked to have
done what seemed to him the
manifest duty of the hour.
He suggested that the two
existing Repeal Associations
should be dissolved and a new

one set up kindled with the
new spirit of the time. There
was to be a legislative Council
of three hundred, and an Ex-
ecutive Committee of five to
act as a Cabinet. Commis-
sioners were to go forth north,
south, east, and west to or-
ganise the country into local
clubs. Permanent agents were
to be established in England to
organise the Irish and the
friends of Ireland there. "The
problem that lies before us is
to seize the whole force of the
country now scattered and
chaotic, to reduce it properly
to order, and discipline it to
system that it may be wielded
like a sword against England.
... I repeat it is but a month's
work to found a thousand
clubs ; and in the present
temper of men's minds they
will flock into such an organ-
isation. With co - operation
the first of July may see Ire-
land organised and fashioned
into the order, strength, and
symmetry of a nation. Give
Ireland a native power which
she can love and obey, and
you give all she requires for
strength or victory. A popular
executive set up by the Irish
nation would overtop the offi-
cials of Dublin Castle in a
week."

Following on the heels of
this clarion call to prepare
came his letter to O'Brien:

" MY DEAR SIR, I am glad
to learn that you are about to
commence a series of meetings
in Munster. There is no half-
way house for you. You will
be the head of the movement
loyally obeyed ; and the revolu-

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty-Eight "

187

tion will be conducted with
order and clemency; or the
mere anarchists will prevail
with the people, and our revo-
lution will be a bloody chaos.
You have at present Lafay-
ette's place so graphically
painted by Lamartine, and I
believe have fallen into Lafay-
ette's error, that of not using
it to all its extent and re-
sources " (Lafayette was the
halfway-house marquis of the
first French Revolution who,
anxious to save the king's
life, hesitated between the
Moderates and the Regicides,
and in the end gave place to
Robespierre and the Reign of
Terror) "If I were Smith
O'Brien I would strike out
in my own mind, and with
such counsel as I valued, a
definite course for the Revolu-
tion, and labour incessantly to
develop it in that way. I
verily believe the hopes of the
country depend upon the man-
ner in which the next two
months are used. There is not
a town in which you could not
find a band of missionaries
to organise the neighbouring
counties every club has its
active men fit for this work
and it is only by applying
all our force to it that we
will succeed. Believe me, my
dear sir, very truly yours,
"C. G. DUFFY."

There is no half-way house
for you. O'Brien was begin-
ning to realise how inevitably
true is this for all who set
forth on the difficult path of
revolution. With the advent
of July the movement took a
big leap forward. The leaders

proceeded to take the advice of
' The Nation,' and plant Ireland
with clubs from end to end. In
the very week when the streets
of Paris ran red with blood,
the aftermath of February's
revolution, organisers posted
to every quarter and to every
province, putting a cordon of
clubs round Ireland. But of
what avail were clubs with-
out arms? "Arm yourselves,
arm!" said "Eva" in the
'Irish Felon'; "think of the
one thing necessary guns,
pikes, pitchforks when you
are armed ask for it ; if re-
fused, take it." "Fight like
fury," said < The Nation,' be-
fore you allow a stook of the
harvest to be plundered by the
black strangers. . . . We re-
commend an extensive out-
door relief of pikes and mus-
kets without delay. . . . We
trust there are a good many
* coffined ' guns in Tipperary,
and a respectable assortment
of pikes where Peelers cannot
lay their hands on them. And
certainly in this month of the
hay harvest there are scythes
in abundance, a weapon worth
both together for scattering a
squadron of cavalry the old
Lochaber axe."

On the 5th July O'Brien
set out from Dublin to make a
tour in the south-west. He
visited Cork, Limerick, Bantry,
Maoroom, Berehaven, Killar-
ney, and wherever he went he
was received with the greatest
enthusiasm. But he was still
afraid to strike. "I say that
there is not in Ireland any one
who entertains so great a
horror of plunging Ireland into
premature rebellion. I am

188

The Irish Rebellion of "Forty-Eight."

[Feb.

ready, if necessary, to offer
myself as a sacrifice, but not
in an abortive attempt. And
therefore I say, and I shall
continue to say it until the
case shall have arisen that
shall bring us into the field,
that I earnestly desire that all
questions between Great Britain
and Ireland should be settled
amicably. I am ready to avow
that at present, and till the first
blood be shed, I am for a con-
tinuance of the ancient consti-
tution of the Queen, Lords, and
Commons of Ireland. I avow
that I am of opinion that the
Irish people would be fully
justified in an appeal to arms if
they were fully prepared."

At Cork he held what he
called a review of his troops.
"I met two thousand men as
well arrayed, as capable of
efficient action as any troops in
Her Majesty's service; and I
met at least ten thousand able-
bodied men who promised to
support and sympathise with
them. Observe I do not wish
to speak of the troops in Her
Majesty's service as opposed to
the men whom I met in Cork.
I have had the satisfaction of
being welcomed by many of
my countrymen who wear red
coats also during this excur-
sion." Just as the weird sisters
saluted Macbeth " Glamis
thou art, and shalt be King
hereafter " an enthusiastic
old beldame in the crowd,
pointing her skinny finger and
reminding him of his ancient
lineage, hailed him as King of
Munster. O'Brien promptly
threw back "Not yet! Not
yet!"

Beturning from his trium-

phant review in Cork, he found
that Duffy had been arrested.
England, he felt, was deter-
mined to pursue her provoca-
tive way, and he was satisfied
that the time had come when
resistance to the Eoglish Gov-
ernment had become a duty
and the choice of a moment lor
the exercise of the right of
resistance was a question to be
decided solely by a calculation
of the chances of success. He
had felt the pulse of the South-
west. Similar testing expedi-
tions were now to be made to
the Midlands, the North, and
Conn aught. In response to his
recent visit a monster meeting
of clubs assembled on Sunday,
July 16, on the historic slopes
of Slievenamon. Doheny, in
the green and gold uniform of
the '82 Club, led the famous
King Cormac Club, a body
4000 strong, from Cashel, " the
city of the Kings."

Government were growing
uneasy at such displays of
force, and at last determined to
strike. On July 18 Dublin
was proclaimed under the Arms
Act, and within the next few
days Cork and Waterford. The
Council of the League met to
consider how the Government's
latest move might be defeated.
Brennan, Darcy M'Gee, and
others were for immediate
action. Dillon proposed an
amendment advocating passive
resistance to the proclamation,
and this was carried by a small
majority, much to the disgust
of the extreme section, Brennan
exclaiming, " You will halt be-
tween two opinions, you will
halt till American and French
aid comes, till rifles are forged

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight."

189

in heaven and angels draw the
trigger ! " O'Brien was still
wavering, still letting " I dare
not" wait upon "I would,"
like the oat i' the adage. An
outbreak would be premature.
The organisation was not com-
plete. He had not inspected
Ireland. At a public meeting
in the Abbey Street Music
Hall the same evening, he
dwelt on the success of his
mission to the South, and
bravely tried to steer between
the two conflicting sections
whom he had left only an hour
or two before. Strike they
must, but the hour to strike ?
There was the stupendous
question. Before many days
passed the date was fixed for
him by a counters troke of which
he had not dreamed.

On July 20 the Govern-
ment were in possession of all
that had passed at the Council
meeting and the public meeting
on the 19th. The Council ad-
journed for two days to arrange
for a Council of War, an execu-
tive of five. They met and
elected Meagher, Dillon, O'Gor-
man, M'Gee, and Devin Reilly.
O'Brien was purposely excluded,
as being more useful in the
country. But a more moment-
ous vote was about to be taken
elsewhere. The bolt was about

to fall. On Saturday, July
22, the Premier learned from
His Excellency in Ireland that
the country was as bad as it
could be short of open rebellion.
The clubs were illegal, but they
could not get evidence to put
them down, so they must ask
for the suspension of the Habeas
Corpus Act. The same after-
noon Lord John Russell went
down to the House of Com-
mons and asked for leave to
suspend the Habeas Corpus in
Ireland in order to prevent a
rebellion there. Little time
was lost. Sir Robert Peel was
prepared to give the measure
decisive and cordial support. If
it were not passed the country
would during the coming recess
be deluged in blood. He was
prepared to protect the Crown
of England against those mock
kings of Munster who, when
royal authority is offered them,
say "Not yet! not yet!" He
was not prepared to shout for
the king of Munster yet, nor to
exchange the mild supremacy
of Queen Victoria for King
O'Brien. The Bill passed
through all stages in the Com-
mons on the same day. Two
days later it received the
Royal assent. The rebels were
euchred. It was now do or
die.

II. ON THE HILLSIDES FKOM ENNISCOETHY TO BALLINGAKBY.

On that same Saturday, the
22nd of July, when legislators
were so busy making law and
were rushing the Suspension
Bill through the House of
Commons, O'Brien, all unaware
of the subtle web which destiny

was weaving to his undoing,
took his seat in the mail-coach
for Ennisoorthy, setting out on
an excursion during which he
was fated to make history. He
spent the night at Mr Maher's
near Enniscorthy, and next

190

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty- Eight."

[Feb.

morning, Sunday the 23rd,
Meagher and Dillon, two of his
ablest lieutenants, who had
followed him hot foot from
Dublin, brought to his bedside
the latest, most unwelcome com-
munique' from London. O'Brien
was stunned. Suoh a step
stood not within the prospect
of belief for him. A wise states-
man has said that across the
page of most revolutions may
be written the words "Too
late ! " O'Brien's rebellion had
the double distinction of being
too late and too early. The
sudden action of the Govern-
ment forced it to go off at half-
cock. But if the Government
struck at an awkward moment
for O'Brien, they did not strike
a moment too soon in the public
interest.

The lawless state of the
country in the month of July
'48 and for the six months
preceding could hardly be ex-
aggerated. The awful trail of
the Famine remained and mani-
fested itself in murder, rapine,
plunder, houghing cattle, fir-
ing into dwelling-houses, and
gross disorder of every kind.
Amid the general orgy of law-
lessness which characterised
the southern counties, three
stood out conspicuous Lim-
erick, Clare, and Tipperary.
At the Spring Assizes for Co.
Limerick there were upwards
of 450 oases of serious crime for
trial, exclusive of 38 from the
city. They included 30 White-
boy offences, over 50 highway
and other robberies, and 45
persons were indicted on the
capital charge, one for two
counties an appalling array,
especially having regard te the

fact that a Special Commission
had sat in the same county
only two months earlier, when
6 criminals were condemned to
death, 18 transported, and 14
imprisoned. At a Special
Commission for Clare in Janu-
ary, 116 persons were indicted
for serious crime, including 11
murders, for which 10 men suf-
fered death. In Tipperary in
the same month there were 375
criminals for trial, 20 for mur-
der. It was the practice then,
as afterwards, to have murders
committed by persons hired
and brought from a distance,
and in Co. Limerick the price
of murder ranged from 5 to
3, 10s., to be levied off the
farmers of the district ! After
the Spring Assizes 250 con-
victs went out, on transporta-
tion, in the Bangalore. At the
Summer Assizes for Limerick
there were 68 felons for trial,
23 of them for murder, and
this was considered a great
improvement !

Suoh was the state of things
in some of those counties en
which O'Brien relied most for
support. When he received
Meagher's unpleasant tidings
at Enniscorthy on that Sun-
day morning he had three
courses open to him to flee,
surrender, or fight. He chose
the last, he tells us himself,
as alone consonant with his
dignity, his previous profes-
sions, and the interests of Ire-
land as he understood them.
He had so strongly urged the
necessity to prepare for con-
flict that " we should have
been exposed to ridicule and
reproach if we had fled at the
moment when all the oontin-

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight "

191

genoies which we had contem-
plated as justifying the use of
force were realised." In this
view he was possibly strength-
ened by Dillon, whose better
judgment told him that the
time was not ripe for a re-
course to arms, but who, when
the sudden crisis came, could
neither leave his leader in the
lurch nor, with him, commit
himself to an ignominious
position. This " new act of
aggression on our liberties"
(the suspension of Habeas
Corpus) had afforded a casus
belli which, in his opinion, no
patriotic Irishman could ques-
tion. Despair of success was
the only consideration which
might have restrained him, and
so far from despairing at the
moment, he was full of hope.
"No human sagacity could
have foreseen that our effort
would have been of a charac-
ter so feeble or its results so
contemptible."

He considered it no pre-
sumptuous expectation that at
the first call to arms 100,000
men would appear in the field.
At the time of the French
Revolution in February, at the
time of Mitchel's conviction in
May, the food problem had
been a serious element in the
case. That problem was no
longer pressing. The potato
crop was abundant, and the
approaching harvest guaran-
teed sustenance for a twelve-
month to the people of Ireland,
whose numbers had been so
drastically reduced by the
Famine. All classes and all
creeds were discontented. He
did not think that thirty or
forty thousand soldiers could

retain in servitude a nation of
seven millions, even if every
soldier and every policeman
were faithful to his paymaster
rather than to his country.
But remembering that all the
police and more than one-third
of the soldiery were Irishmen,
he was convinced that, given
a certain amount of success
sufficient to guarantee protec-
tion and support to those who
joined, a large proportion of
police and soldiers would have
gone over. The fact remains
that in a very difficult position
the police to a man stood loyal.
Nor was this O'Brien's enly
miscalculation.

The sudden coup of the Gov-
ernment forced him to take
the field at a moment's notice
without any organised plan of
campaign, and with a very
imperfect knowledge of the
personnel or extent of his
forces, or of the means of
maintaining them. He had
not inspected Ireland. From
Ennisoorthy to Graigue, to
Kilkenny, to Callan, to Car-
rick, to Mullinahone, to Cashel,
to Killenaule wherever he
went he met with plenty of
lip homage and tossing of caps
and waving of boughs and
banners bouquets were show-
ered on him; "it was roses,
roses, all the way" but he
found little real support or
fighting power. He had to
learn that revolutions are not
carried by fine words and
vehement protestations. His
nondescript army waxed and
waned from hour to hour as
he passed through the country.
Before he had been twenty-
four hours in any particular

192

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty-Eight."

[Feb.

place the throng of ardent
admirers who had flocked to
meet him began to dissolve
under two strong influ-
ences which he had entirely
miscalculated. The opposition
of the clergy was as unex-
pected as it was thorough.
Equally disappointing was the
imperturbability of the Con-
stabulary.

Smith O'Brien's seven days'
rebellion was also the seven
days' temptation of the Con-
stabulary. Very persistently
he tried to seduce the police
from their allegiance by the
promise of good things to come.
He began at Ennisoorthy on
July 23rd. He was happy to
see so many police present.
They were a fine body of men,
and all Irishmen ; they should
be treated as friends till they
proved themselves otherwise.
He assured them he had been
received in many parts of Ire-
land in a very friendly manner
by the soldiery and the Con-
stabulary. At Callan next day
he was glad to see the police.
They had sound Irish hearts,
and they would be better under
an Irish Government than
under Englishmen and Scotch-
men. At Mullinahone, on the
25th, he assured the police he
had a great respect for them,
and he wished the people to
treat them with every degree
of respect and civility, to meet
them as brothers, to meet them
openly, and by no means to
take an advantage of them.
His remarks there were ad-
dressed to an excited and
enthusiastic crowd of between
3000 and 4000 (Kickhjam says
6000), many of them armed.

After spending most of the
night in rudimentary drilling,
O'Brien went next morning,
the 26th of July, to the local
police barrack to induce the
police to surrender. One of
his companions on this visit
was a man who was after-
wards to play a prominent
part in Irish revolutionary
propaganda James Stephens,
the future Head Centre of the
Irish Republican Brotherhood.
O'Brien told the Head Con-
stable, David Williams, that
he wanted the police arms.
Williams replied they would
only part with their arms with
their lives. O'Brien asked, Had
they seen the display last
night ? It would be better for
them to surrender their arms
and go with him to Callan,
where he would put them
under pay. Williams retorted
that he would be unworthy
of the name of Irishman if he
gave up his arms. O'Brien
then gave him an hour to con-
sider. Within that time he
would have five hundred men
there and resistance would
be useless. Within the hour
Williams, in accordance with
orders issued to the police to
concentrate at headquarters,
marched his men out to Cashel,
without let or hindrance, and
was accompanied as far as
Killenaule by an escort fur-
nished by the local clergy !
O'Brien, in his record of what
happened at Mullinahone, de-
clares that "the police there
professed entire sympathy with
our prooeedings,"and Kickham,
in his account furnished to
Gavan Duffy, says, "There was
some excitement and anxiety

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of ' Forty-Eight."

193

as to what was going to hap-
pen, when O'Brien walked into
the police barrack, the door of
which was open, as if nothing
unusual was going on. There
was a laugh, however, among
the crowd, when a big police-
man put his head out of an
upper window, exclaiming,
" Yerrah ! sure the time isn't
come yet to surrender our
arms. D'ye wait till the right
time comes ! " Both these ver-
sions go to show that the
police at Mullinahone had
some skill in diplomacy, and
were playing a weak hand with
considerable finesse. The laugh
was on the other side within a
week, when O'Brien's army
had melted away like snow off
the Galtees, and H.C. Williams
and his party received a hand-
some pecuniary reward for re-
maining staunch to duty.

O'Brien's plan of campaign,
so far as he had any, was to
seize Kilkenny, and to this he
was probably prompted by
Dillon. Kilkenny had advan-
tages of situation and advan-
tages of tradition. It was the
City of the Confederation. It
was the centre of a circle which
embraced some of the best
fighting material in Ireland,
and in which memories of the
Tithe War still survived. It
was sufficiently far removed
from the military resources of
the Government to protect it
from sudden attack. "If a
simultaneous movement should
take place in other parts of the
Kingdom we should be in a
position either to co-operate
with the men of Meath, Kil-
dare, and Wicklow, in an ad-
vance on Dublin, or to sustain

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII,

every effort which might be
made in Waterford, Cork,
or Limerick." At Kilkenny
O'Brien met with his first
disappointment. He expected
that the rising, when the signal
was given, would be simul-
taneous and almost universal.
Arriving in Kilkenny from
Ennisoorthy on the night of
the 23rd, he found that the
Clubs there would not consider
it safe to rise alone. If they
had co-operation they nnyht }
but the garrison had been
strengthened, &o., &o. They
were fertile in excuses. What
was to be done ? Call on the
men of " Magnificent Tipper-
ary" to lend their aid. "It
is useless to speculate," says
O'Brien, "what would have
been the result if a thousand
resolute men, well armed, had
marched from the towns of
Waterford and Carrick upon
Kilkenny, and had been accom-
panied by all the active and
ardent young men from the
intervening district, who would
naturally have been induced to
unite with them in such an
undertaking." At Callan they
were well received bands
played, bonfires blazed, green
boughs waved. At Cashel of
the Kings, which had sent such
a muster to Slievenamon on
the preceding Sunday, and
which was supposed to be well
organised by Doheny, there
was little enthusiasm. " Cashel
was like a city of the dead."
But Carrick was afire. "A
torrent of human beings, rush-
ing through lanes and narrow
streets, whirling in dizzy circles,
and tossing up its dark waves
with sounds of wrath, ven-
N

194

The Irish Rebellion of "Forty-Eight"

[Feb.

geanoe, and defiance . . . eyes
red with rage and desperation
. . . wild, half-stifled, frantic,
passionate prayers of hope;
ourses on the red flag ; scornful,
exalting defiance of death. It
was the revolution, if we had
accepted it." Surely here was
the place for the red glare
to burst. But O'Brien voted
against it, and adhered to his
original intention to seize Kil-
kenny. He asked for 600
volunteers to accompany him
to Callan, but they were not
forthcoming.

Kilkenny, Cashel, Carrick
three large towns had failed
him. He would now fall back
on the country districts. On
Tuesday the 25th he visited
Killenaule. There was plenty of
enthusiasm, plenty of bouquets,
plenty of addresses, but of any
efficient addition to his strength,
or any improvement in organ-
isation, there was none. Mull-
inahone was the next objective,
and here for the first time it
seemed that the people meant
business. Dense crowds jostled
at the blacksmith's forge in
their eager haste to procure
pike heads. The smith himself
was " killed " trying to hammer
out the stuff. " Before midnight
the material for a splendid
brigade had answered the sum-
mons. It was computed that
upwards of 6000 men, armed
with fowling-pieces, impromptu
spikes and pitchforks, were
drawn up and kept at rudi-
mentary drill that night along
the streets and roads leading to
the town of Mullinahone."

But the enthusiasm was
short-lived. There were two
imperious reasons for the

damping of the insurgents'
ardour, the Commissariat and
the Clergy. If it is true that
an army fights on its stomach,
O'Brien's motley gathering
would not go far. He had
declared that he would lay
hands on no man's property
ruthlessly. His raw recruits
were clamouring for fight, but
clamouring more loudly for
breakfast. O'Brien in his
quixotic way went into a
baker's shop and bought them
a few loaves, but what were
they among so many ? Gavan
Duffy was right in saying that
he starved the insurrection.
But the other obstacle was
even more serious. If O'Brien
starved the body, there were
others who could starve the
soul. Let him describe their
action in his own words. "I
took up a position at Mullin-
ahone, and if it had not been
for the interference of the
Roman Catholic clergymen of
the parish, I should have found
myself in command of a large
armed force, which might in
a few days have been rendered
available for such a movement
as I contemplated or for any
of the operations of guerilla
warfare. These men, if left to
themselves, would have cheer-
fully encountered privation or
danger. But they were com-
pletely paralysed by the oper-
ation of spiritual influences.
The same men, who had shown
the utmost ardour in the even-
ing, were on the following
morning, after listening to
the exhortations of the priest,
if not indisposed, at least
utterly unfit for action. . . .
We were defeated, not by

1918.] The Irish Rebellion of Forty-Eight." 195

the military preparations of O'Briwn's arrival in Mullina-

Lord Hardinge or of General hone with some rude pikes

MaoDonald, not by the sys- and arms. He was not able

tern of espionage organised to patrol during the night

by Lord Clarendon, but by among the multitude, "prin-

the influences brought into oipally of strangers," but next

action by the Catholic clergy ! morning when he appeared

Whatever merit is connected and remonstrated with his

with the suppression of our flock they immediately aban-

effort is due chiefly, if not doned O'Brien, and he was

solely, to the Catholic Hier- forced to retreat to Bal-

arohy." The Rev. John Cor- lingarry. " He intended to

ooran, P.P. of Mullinahone, make Mullinahone his head-

his curate Father Cahill, and quarters and this neigbbour-

the Rev. John Moloney, P.P. hood his battle-ground, but

of Thurles, shared the honours. I would not allow any one

Father Corcoran was fully under my spiritual jurisdiction

alive to the importance of to fraternise with his treason-

the part he played, and to able and wicked designs."

the powerful influence of the Father Dan was as keen and

"unpaid National Guard." as successful as any policeman

in preserving the public peace,

"OAKFIELD, MULLINAHONE, and he received the best

August 6, '48. thanks of the Government for

"The Rev. Daniel Corcoran, his loyal and zealous endeav-
P.P. of Mullinahone, takes the ours to support the Queen's
liberty of addressing His Ex. authority on that occasion,
the Earl of Clarendon on It is easy enough to under-
behalf of his people, whose stand the hostility of the
loyal, peaceable, and dutiful clergy to the movement. They
conduct has been already had followed closely the trend
noticed by the Press of the of events in France. A month
Empire for their determined had not passed since the Corn-
opposition to the rash and munists had risen in arms
insane movements of Smith against the Republic and for
O'Brien and his followers in a week bathed Paris in blood,
this district. The venerable Archbishop of

"I can safely say to your Paris, intervening as peace-
Excellency that among my maker, was shot dead at a
flock there are no persons barricade. Who could foretell
disaffected to the present what would happen in Ireland
Government, that the laws if the Jacquerie got the upper
are respected and obeyed." hand? Their imitation of the

French model had been close

In candour Father Dan enough so far as it had

admits that "certain very gone.

young and foolish persons " While O'Brien was zigzag-

(the 6000 of Kickham !) did ging through the plains of

appear on the night of Tipperary, what was happen-

196

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight"

[Feb.

ing on the other side? The
Clubs had been proclaimed ;
the Duke of Wellington and
Lord Hardinge had placed
their services at the disposal
of the Government, and were
prepared to proceed to Ire-
laud to aid His Excellency;
an additional military district
was created, with Waterford
as headquarters. All over the
South the feeling prevailed
that the "rising" was on.
Clonmel was in a state of
siege. People remained up all
night expecting an irruption
of the Clubs to attack the
military barrack. The cavalry
riding-school was thrown open
for those who sought protection.
Special constables were sworn
in. All arms and ammunition
in possession of vendors were
taken over by the police.
In Waterford soldiers were
marching and counter-march-
ing, bugles sounding, alarming
despatches arriving ; " every
hour some horseman came
with tidings of dismay " ;
twenty -five families sailed for
Bristol in one day. In Carrick
and other towns in the neigh-
bourhood people were leaving
by every available means.
Carriok was "terribly excited.
The people talk only of war."
In Waterford pikes were sell-
ing at 2d. to 9d. apiece.

Much of the excitement was
talk only. The proclamations
acted like magic. Any one ar-
rested on suspicion of treason-
able practices was liable to be
detained in custody till March
'49 without bail or mainprize.
On such exacting conditions
Clubs were no longer trump.
The majority of the members

notified their resignations vol-
untarily to the stipendiary
magistrates. Others, many of
them of the shopboy class,
fled in alarm to other towns,
where they speedily took the
Queen's shilling and swore to
fight against all rebels.

The police at outlying rural
stations were called in and con-
centrated in the towns. One
wonders whether there was no
alternative to such a step. The
disadvantages of it were ob-
vious. It left the rebels a very
free hand to move up and down
the country as they wished and
mature their plans without any
fear of interference, while at
the same time it placed the
well-disposed people, who had
no sympathy with the move-
ment, in a difficult position.
Among other untoward results
it produced an epidemic of
plunder and pillage, and in
little more than a week the
order was rescinded and the
rural police were sent back to
their stations.

After a day of weird military
evolutions at Ballingarry, pre-
sided over by " Ijieutenant-
Colonel" Jack Cormaok (an
old soldier) and " Commander "
Cunningham, and a day of bar-
ricades at Killenaule, where his
forces came into a brief colli-
sion with a troop of Hussars,
O'Brien found himself on Friday
night, the 28th July,, at the
Commons in County Tipperary,
presiding over a divided and
distracted council of his chiefs.
The majority of them, and the
best of them, were for post-
poning the fight, seeing how
seriously O'Brien had miscal-
culated the temper of the

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of "Forty-Eight."

197

people. They suggested wait-
ing till the harvest to "light
the wisp on the hills," and
going into concealment in the
meantime. O'Brien would have
none of it. Eventually only
two of them stuck to him
Terence Bellew M'Manus and
James Stephens. Dillon was
for going to Limerick, where
his chief had many partisans,
but the latter declined. "I
won't hide," he said ; " I won't
be a fugitive where my fore-
fathers reigned. I won't go to
Limerick ; I will continue to
appeal to the people as I have
been doing, till we gather
enough support to enable us to
take the field." For O'Brien
there was no going back now.
Bear-like, he must fight the
course. The eve of his Waterloo
had come.

Meanwhile Kilkenny, the
city of the Confederation, the
city from which O'Brien had
hoped that the genesis of a
New Ireland would spring,
had abandoned itself to gaiety.
Its condition during that mem-
orable week forcibly illustrates
how sunshine and storm, grave
and gay, are always inextric-
ably intermingled in Ireland.
The country's responsible ruler
had described its condition to
be "as bad as can be short of
open rebellion." The stranger
in Kilkenny would have found
it difficult to recognise the
picture. The cattle show, a
three-day affair, and at that
time the biggest social func-
tion of the year, concluded
on Friday night, the 28 bh,
with a grand ball. The beauty
and chivalry of three counties
were there. There were plenty

of red -coats and green, for
the state of the country had
brought large additions to the

irrison and the Constabulary,
ittle they recked of Smith
O'Brien or rebellion, or the
red god of war. For the
moment Venus was in the
ascendant. It was a brilliant
scene, full of colour. "Bright
the lamps shone o'er fair
women and brave men."
When the merriment was at
its height the arrival of an
uninvited guest, in the person
of Head - Constable Crowley,
threw the assembly into most
admired disorder, and soon
caused a few gaps among the
dancers. He was the bearer
of an urgent despatch from
Dublin Castle for County- In-
spector Blake, announcing that
Smith O'Brien was in open
rebellion on the borders of his
county, and offering a reward
of 500 for his arrest. 'Then
it was " Arm ! arm ! and out ! "
In half an hour the ballroom
was deserted. Blake set out
at once for Killenaule, which
he reached in the small hours
of Saturday morning. Hav-
ing ascertained O'Brien's exact
whereabouts, he despatched
trusty messengers, directing
three detachments of police
to converge simultaneously on
Boulagh Commons at 3 P.M.
the same afternoon Sub-In-
spector Trant and his party
from Callan, Sub - Inspector
Cox and party from Cashel,
and Sub- Inspector Monahan
and party from Fethard. The
County-Inspector himself went
direct to Thurles, where he
hoped to get the aid of the
military, who were quartered

198

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty-Eight."

[Feb.

there in considerable force
under General MaoDonald.
But neither the General nor
the County - Inspector was
destined to reach the field
of battle.

Sub-Inspector Trant was an
excellent fellow, full of pluck
and full of fight, but in his
not unnatural thirst for "one
glorious hour of crowded life "
he appears to have shown
undue haste and an insufficient
regard for orders. He was
due at the Commons at 3 P.M.
From Callan it is little more
than ten miles distant, and
Trant, setting out at 9.30 A.M.,
found himself at Ballingarry
before 1 P.M., and approaching
the Commons some two hours
before the time fixed. Smith
O'Brien was sitting at a table
in the widow Laoken's kitchen,
inditing for publication a letter
which contained a preliminary
exposition of the principles
upon which the war was to
be conducted, when John
Kavanagh, president of one
of the Dublin Clubs, who
had made his way from
Dublin to join his leader,
rode down the hill at a gallop
with the news that a large
body of police was passing
through Ballingarry on its
way to the Commons. Instant
preparations were made for
a defence. A barricade was
thrown across the street at
the entrance to the village.
The rebel programme arranged
for Saturday was to march out
and meet reinforcements from
Urlingford at a chapel mid-
way between the two villages,
then wheel to the left and
attack the police barrack at

New Birmingham, but Sub-
Inspector Trant's unexpected
arrival precipitated a collision.
Trant's party numbered forty-
six. As regards the insurgent
forces, there is considerable
discrepancy of evidence. The
police testimony is that they
numbered about three thousand.
The bulk of them consisted
probably of curious and non-
combatant spectators. The
actual armed fighting force on
the rebel side was not large,
as is fairly clear from the
wretched stand they made.
M'Manus says, " We threw up
a hasty but effectual barricade
of carts, timber, &o. In a
hollow on the left we placed
our pike and pitchfork men, so
as to be able to charge outside
or retreat inside. Stephens,
with some of the gunsmen,
occupied the houses command-
ing the barricade; O'Brien,
with a few gunsmen, kept the
front of the barricade ; I, with
about eighty men and women,
occupied a large hollow on the
left, about two hundred and
fifty yards in advance of the
barricade. We were to lie close
on our faces until the police
had passed and received the
first fire. "We were then to
rush down on their rear and
give them a volley of stones
and close with them. Simul-
taneously with this, the pike-
men were to charge, and
Stephens was to reload as
many muskets as there was
powder for, and stand in
reserve. In this order we
awaited them for about twenty
minutes, our force being twenty-
two guns and pistols, and
about as many pikes and pitch-

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty-Eight."

199

forks, and seventy or eighty
men and women armed with
stones." Non tali auxilio, nee
defensoribus istisl With suoh
material not Hannibal nor
Hindenburg oould hope to
found a new heaven and a
new earth in Ireland.

Trant, with his forty -six
merry men, knowing nothing
of the reception awaiting them
at the barricade, pushed on
through Ballingarry, whistling
jigs as they went. Soon after
passing the village they were
in a very precarious position.
Crowds began to press them
in the rear, to hang on their
flanks in the fields on either
side of the road, to pour down
from the hills, while some
distance in front Trant saw
another large crowd, some of
them armed and the barri-
cade ! Finding himself hemmed
in on all sides, he wheeled sud-
denly to the right towards
Kilkenny, hoping to meet rein-
forcements ; but of course there
were none to be seen, and he
then realised that it was as big
a blunder to be too early as to
be too late. Seeing a slated
house a few fields off he ordered
his men, who were marching in
fours, to break and take pos-
session of it. By this un-
expected move the widow
M'Cormaok and her cabbage-
garden won a page in history.
On seeing the polioe retreat,
the whole of O'Brien's force at
the barricade broke away with
wild yells in an eager and
irregular pursuit without wait-
ing for orders, and arrived at
M'Cormaok's house at Farrin-
rory a few minutes after the
polioe. The latter at once pro-

ceeded to barricade and secure
the place against possible at-
tacks, throwing up mattresses
and all loose material against
the windows, and making fast
the doors.

Before many minutes passed
Trant was summoned down-
stairs. A messenger from
O'Brien, approaching the win-
dow under cover of the wall,
said: "For God's sake, let
there be no firing; we want
peace." Trant assured him
that if the people did not
fire neither would the polioe;
but if a shot was fired from
without, the police would fire
as long as a cartridge or a
man remained. O'Brien, find-
ing that his messenger did
not return, soon appeared on
the scene himself. While his
lieutenant, M'Manus, was fir-
ing his rifle into the hay at
the rear with the object of
"smoking them out," O'Brien
made his way through a
wicket -gate at the side, and,
standing up on the window-
sill, renewed his policy of
fraternising with the polioe.
He put his hand through the
top of the window to shake
hands with those inside, and
it was shaken in a friendly
way. Had they only known
that at the time that hand-
shake was worth 500, they
might have been disposed to
prolong it ! "I am Smith
O'Brien," said the leader "as
good an Irishman as any of
you." "We don't want your
lives; we want your arms."
The men assured him they
oould only surrender their
arms with their lives, and
referred him to their officer.

200

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight "

[Feb.

O'Brien crossed the doorway
to the other window, expect-
ing to see Trant there; but
just as he crossed some of his
own party began to attack
the window with stones. Some
one (not O'Brien) shouted
out, "Slash away, boys, and
slaughter the whole of them ! "
This was the signal for gen-
eral firing on both sides,
it is not clear which side fired
the first shot, but O'Brien
thought it was one of his
own party, and all parley
was at an end.

O'Brien now found himself
in a position of considerable
danger. Not only was he ex-
posed to the police rifles, but
he ran equal, or greater, risk
from the blind firing of his own
party. The police were firing
from both lower and upper
windows. He had no alterna-
tive but to make a dash for
the front gate, where he
would reach the friendly shel-
ter of the surrounding wall.
That he succeeded in doing
so without receiving an in-
glorious wound a tergo is
amazing, and suggests that
the shooting of the Con-
stabulary in 1848 left some-
thing to be desired. If further
evidence is required, it may
be found in the fact that,
although brisk firing was kept
up for over an hour 230
rounds of ammunition were
served out to the police sub-
sequently to replace what had
been spent only two persons
lost their lives at the battle
of Farrinrory. Possibly a
dozen, including Stephens, were
wounded. Among the police
there were no casualties.

O'Brien, irritated at the turn
affairs had taken, and disap-
pointed at his failure to win
over the police, was now dis-
posed to adopt M'Manus's
tactics and "smoke them out,"
but on looking round he saw
that the police fire had at any
rate had the effect of reducing
the crowd around the house
to small proportions. The bulk
of the rebels had retreated to
the road. At this juncture
there enters on the scene one of
the most interesting figures in
the drama, a police orderly,
John Carroll. One would like
to know Carroll's subsequent
history in the Force. On that
memorable day he certainly
played a difficult game with
admirable coolness. O'Brien,
seeing a large crowd surround-
ing one or two central figures
on the road, went down there
and found that Father Fitz-
gerald, the parish priest of
Ballingarry, and his curate,
Father Maher, were eagerly
dissuading the people from
their mad project. O'Brien
vehemently insisted that they
should allow the people to act
in defence of their country and
avenge the loss of their com-
rades, but the priests would
not sanction any renewal of
the attack. While so remon-
strating, he was informed that
a police spy had been captured.
Carroll was brought before
him and promptly dismounted.
The rebel leader as promptly
mounted his horse, and after
moving up and down among
the people for some time and
still meeting with clerical op-
position, he finally rode away
towards Urlingford, finding

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of "Forty -Eight."

201

that for the moment it was
less exciting to lead his regi-
ment from behind, like' the
Duke of Plaza - Toro. The
moment had arrived to test
Carroll's adroitness. " Having
dismounted, Carroll cried out
that he never was so happy in
his life, and that there was no
man present who wished sue*-
cess to the cause more than he
did." And yet he had so in-
gratiated himself a moment
before with the clergy, who
were dead against the move-
ment, that they promised and
procured for him a safe escort
to the widow M'Cormack's
house to deliver his despatches,
which he had brought from
Mr Greene, the Besident Magis-
trate at Kilkenny, to the Sub-
Inspector. Let him tell his
own modest tale as he set it
down, plain and unvarnished,
on the day after the battle, for
the information of his authori-
ties : " When about half a mile
outside Ballingarry I met two
gentlemen whom I took to be
priests. I begged of them to
accompany me to the house
where the men were, for that I
had commands for the officer
in charge of the party. The
priests immediately consented,
and we galloped off at a hard
rate. On coming within range
of the house where the police
were attacked the firing hav-
ing been (sic) gone on rapidly
the priests faltered a little
in shade of a ditch, upon which
I followed, and taking off my
hat " (he was in plain clothes)
" I beckoned for the people to
fall back and draw away
from the house; they accord-
ingly did so, as they were

under the impression I was
a clergyman, being a few
minutes previous in company
with the two priests belonging
to that parish. The crowds
made towards the clergymen,
and on my finding an oppor-
tunity I pushed forward to the
house, and the men in the
house being of opinion that I
was leading on the rebels, kept
firing upon me; but on their
recognising me within about
100 yards of the house they
cheered loudly, they being of
the opinion that I had a rein-
forcement. I handed in my
commands through the window
to Mr Trant, who told me to
go fast to Kilkenny for sup-
port. I returned, and although
I was sure I had a very poor
chance of my life in getting off
from the crowds still being
aware that my comrades were
in a perilous position, and that
nothing short of great help
would save their lives" he
knew nothing of the reinforce-
ments that were momentarily
expected " I came to the con-
clusion of risking my life, or
make for Kilkenny, and had
not gone far when I met the
parish priest, and well know-
ing that the only chance I had
was to put myself under his
protection; but I was imme-
diately recognised by some one
in the crowd, who told Mr
Smith O'Brien that I was a
policeman, upon which Mr
O'Brien asked, Wasn't I a
mounted policeman? I said
1 Yes,' when a man behind
said it was my candour saved
me ; upon which a young
man of respectable appearance
stepped out of the crowd" this

202

The Irish Rebellion of "Forty-Eight.'

[Feb.

was M'Manus " and told me
I should consider myself his
prisoner, and very kindly said
I need not fear of being in-
jured or offered the slightest
insult whilst under his pro-
tection. I then dismounted,
upon which Mr Smith O'Brien
mounted my horse. The other
young man by whom I was
arrested took my arm and
linked me down the field, ask-
ing me how the troops in
Kilkenny were situated and
what their strength was. I
was then detained for about
three hours under the protec-
tion of four men armed with
pikes and guns. The priest
then gave directions that I
should be sent to my com-
rades or to some other place
where I would be safe from
injury. The people on hear-
ing this murmured, and said if
I were let go I would hang
every one of them. Still the
men under whose protection I
was placed said they would
do what the priest directed
and protect me with their
lives. The men giving me a
choice of the direction I would
take, I shoved on towards Kil-
kenny, and after conducting
me about half a mile beyond
their camp they left me."

Well done, Carroll! This
was a full, and a useful, day's
work even for a policeman ;
but his finest flight was yet to
come. He was hurrying to a
farmer's house to borrow a
horse for his return journey
to Kilkenny, when at a sudden
turn in the road he came up
against his own faithful steed,
the rebel leader still astride

him. O'Brien, who had a
varied taste in head-gear, had
discarded his '82 club cap with
the green and gold for a peas-
ant's hat. He had lost his
way to Urlingford by taking
a wrong turn, and was doub-
ling back on the Commons.
Seeing Carroll, he assumed he
was about to be arrested, and
covered the constable with his
pistol, saying that his life
or Carroll's depended on the
event. Carroll, who was equal
to the occasion, declared he
had no sinister design and
carried no arms. O'Brien said
it was beneath him to shoot an
unprotected man. A friendly
conversation ensued, in the
course of which Carroll used
some plain language, pointing
out to O'Brien the futility of
his action, and reminding him
that the clergy were teetotally
against him, and that he could
not hope to succeed. How
could he expect to meet troops ?
O'Brien said that for twenty
years he had worked for his
country, and his country could
redeem itself if it liked. Carroll
rejoined that his country could
not be redeemed except by
blood, and he said he wanted
no blood. Assuring him that
his sentiments were those of
an honest man, which he would
reward by giving him back
his horse, O'Brien exceeded the
civility of the good Samaritan,
set the constable on his own
beast, gave him his stick in
token of friendship, and ob-
serving that the lives of both
of them were in nearly equal
peril, wished him a safe jour-
ney to Kilkenny ! to Kilkenny,

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of "Forty-Eight"

203

the enemy's headquarters ! Was
ever battle in suoh fashion
waged? It was magnificent,
but was it war?

In suoh incidents as this we
see O'Brien's character crop-
ping out. His was an interest-
ing personality, compact of
contradictions. His head was
in the air in more senses than
one. Dominating and maste?-
ful, he yet had a wonderful and
a kindly way with the people.
Disinterestedness and a strong
sense of justice were his out-
standing qualities. Suoh qual-
ities were not too common in
the Ireland of his day, and it is
easy to see how he became the
idol of a warm-hearted and im-
pulsive people. Whatever his
faults, he was not lacking in
personal courage. On the day
of Farrinrory he exposed him-
self many times to danger, even
foolishly; and when S.-I. Cox
and his gallant band, arriving
on the scene about four o'clock
in the afternoon, put an end to
the miserable fiasco, it is mira-
culous that O'Brien did not
fall into their hands, for after
parting with Carroll and his
horse he kept hovering about
the scene as a moth flitters
round a candle.

When Cox arrived from
Cashel there was little fight
left in the rebels. On the hill
under the widow M'Cormaok's
house he found a crowd of
about two hundred in three
parties some of them armed
with guns, pikes, and pitch-
forks, in a haggard at foot
of the hill about sixty more.
These retired sullenly before
the advance of the Constabu-

lary. Half-way up the hill
they determined to make a
stand, raised a shout, and
rushed forward with their
pikes. Cox said if they came
any nearer he would fire. One
of his men cried out that he
had been fired at. Cox gave the
order to fire, a volley rang
out; the others returned the
fire feebly. "I saw one man
fall, and there was a pause,
then a cheer, and a few more
shots fired and they did not
come on any more. Some ran
away, some lay down, and some
looked out for their safety as
well as they could." Sic transit
gloria. Thus was Farrinrory
lost and won. O'Brien's " con-
temptible escapade " (the words
are his own) was at an end ;
the Peelers had prevailed.

Alongside John Carroll's re-
port must be placed another
modest tale, a very human
document. It was written by
Sub-Inspector Trant, fresh from
the cabbage garden of victory
with all his blushing honours
thick upon him : if some of the
phrases are pitched in a rather
lofty key, every allowance must
be made for the occasion. It
was an informal note to Mr
Greene the Besident Magis-
trate, scribbled off before he
had supped. His more con-
sidered despatch to his own
authorities seems to have been
a masterpiece in its way. It
began in poetic vein

" Who spills the foremost foeman's life,
His party conquers in the strife,"

and as Whiteside, who de-
fended O'Brien so brilliantly
on his trial, said, " if printed it

204

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty- Eight "

[Feb.

might take its place with
Gurney's Despatches of the
Duke of Wellington!"

" KlLMANAGH,

" 8 P.M., 07i return home.

" None dead on our part.
No military need oome to our
aid. We certainly did not
leave less than a dozen killed
and wounded. We gave the
priest leave to take away the
dead and dying, although his
Reverence did not oome near
us till we had made all re-
treat. Two shots were fired
at the coward Smith O'Brien.
'Tis thought he must have
been hit. The wretch when
fired at fell on his knees,
crawled away under a low
wall, and got away through
ditches. Eager eyes could not
see him. We were myself,
Head Constable McDonough,
and forty - five men. They
were thousands from Ballin-
garry, Commons, and Coal-
pits.

"I had secured a house on
top of a hill just as they were
all round us, and fired two
shots, one of which passed
me. My mare left outside
they took away, but we re-
covered her after the siege
minus bridle, pistols, and six
ball-cartridge.

" O'Brien disgraced his rebel
uniform after proposing five
minutes to us to surrender
arms or die.

"After our victory and after
we had barricaded for the
night, S.-I. Cox and the Cashel
men came to us they took
the pikes of the killed and
a powder fla?k from the scene ;
we expect them back.

"In an hour after S.-L
Monahan's party came up
they took away for their
quarters, we for ours !
" God Save the Queen !
"8 P.M.

" My men are as brave and
cool as lions.

" J. TRANT, S.-I.

" I am up since four o'c. and
eat nothing since five,"

On either side the commis-
sariat received scant attention !

That O'Brien had totally
miscalculated the energies of
the Irish people was evident
not only at Farrinrory, but at
every halting-place in his seven
days' itinerary. O'Brien him-
self confessed as much when
all was over, nor did he seek
to disavow responsibility for
his disastrous failure ; but
those who know the Munster
counties of Tipperary and
Limerick best will be most
ready to admit how inflam-
mable was the material on
which he was working, how
great a fire a small spark
might have kindled there, and
how different might have been
the results had O'Brien met
with even a temporary success
or the Constabulary for a
moment wavered in their
adhesion to the Crown. Pro-
bably their loyalty to duty
saved Ireland from civil war
in '48. At the subsequent
trial of Meagher, M'Manus,
and O'Donoghue, Chief-Justice
Doherty, in passing sentence,
expressed himself in language
which was afterwards endorsed
by public opinion and the
press : " It is not to any for-

1918.]

The Irish Rebellion of " Forty -Eight."

205

bearanoe on your part that
that rebellion, for such I may
term it, which broke out in
that week, was brought to a
speedy conclusion. It is not
due to you; it is under God
attributable to the fidelity
and bravery of the police
force. When I reflect what
might have been the conse-
quences if that police force,
either seduced by promises or
intimidated by threats which
were made use of, had yielded
to the advances that were
made to them, if they had been
overwhelmed by the congre-
gated numbers that assembled
and attempted their destruc-
tion, or if they had failed in
dispersing those bands of rebels
that assembled around them
on the hills I think there is
no fair man who, looking at
and contemplating what the
state of this country might
have been, will not see how
rapidly a temporary success
might have added to the num-
bers of the insurgents, and
how soon this country might
have been deluged in blood
and given over to all the
horrors of civil war. It is from
that we have escaped by the
fidelity and bravery of the
police force."

Most of the leaders went
into hiding and escaped after
the " shooting - match " at

Ballingarry ; but a few, in-
cluding O'Brien, Meagher,
M'Manus, O'Donoghue, and
Maurice Leyne were safely
lodged in Clonmel jail, and
eventually transported. Two
months later there was a final
flash in the pan. John
O'Mahony, well known in after
times as the Fenian Head
Centre, with others, attacked
some police barracks on the
borders of Kilkenny and Tip-
perary. A few policemen and
peasants were killed. Fintan
Lalor, Thomas Clarke Luby,
and Brennan decided to carry
on as a Directory, and in '49
arranged an " echo " of the
rising. They met at Clonmel,
and planned simultaneous at-
tacks on Cashel and Dun-
garvan. Der Tag arrived, but
Cashel and Dungarvan were
undismayed. There was a
slight skirmish at Cappoquin,
where the police again carried
off the honours. Luby was
arrested and imprisoned, a few
peasants were transported, and
the "echo" blew over like a
puff of smoke. The Waterford
and Tipperary mountains had
been in labour fr the third
time, and the result was more
ridiculous than ever. After
Lalor's effort insurrections
went out of favour in Ireland
for many a day.

W. J. HARDY.

206

[Feb.

H.M.S.

IX. THE "SPECIAL. 3

SHE was not new and nobody
oould call her handsome. She
was evidently more accustomed
to rough weather than paint,
and her sloping forecastle
and low freeboard were old-
fashioned, to say the least of
them. She jogged slowly
along, rolling to a short beam
sea, with an apologetic air, as
if she felt ashamed of being
what she was a pre-war
torpedo-boat on local patrol
duty.

She steered no particular
course, and varied her speed
capriciously as she beat up and
down. Being in sight of the
land a grey, hard, low line
to the westward there was
no need for accurate plotting
of courses. On the bridge
stood her Captain, a dark,
lean, R.N.B. Lieutenant, pipe in
mouth and hands in " lammy "
pockets. The T.B. was rolling
too much for any one to walk
the tiny deck of the bridge ; in
fact, a landsman would have
had difficulty in standing at
all. He turned his head as his
First Lieutenant swung up the
little iron ladder behind him.

"What's for lunch?" he
asked, carefully knocking out
his pipe on the rail before him.

" The same," said his laconic
subordinate, who was engaged
in a rapid survey of the com-
pass card, revolution indicator,
and the horizon astern. The
two stood side by side a
moment looking out at the sea

and sky to windward. "Any
pickles?" said the Captain.

"No, only mustard."

The Captain sighed and
turned to leave the bridge.
The First Lieutenant pivoted
suddenly " It's better'n you
and I had off the Horn in the
Harvester. You'd 've been
glad to get beef then, even if
it was in a tin." He snorted,
and turned forward again to
look ahead. The Captain re-
mained at the foot of the
ladder, reading a signal handed
to him by a waiting Boy Tele-
graphist. The argument on
the subject of tinned beef had
lasted a year already, and
oould be continued at leisure.

The boy received the signal
back and vanished below, while
the Captain climbed slowly
to the bridge again. He spoke
to the man at the wheel, and
himself moved the revolution
indicator.

"Panic?" said the First
Lieutenant (neither of them
seemed to use more than one
word at a time, unless engaged
in an argument).

"Sure, "was the reply. "Tell
'em to make that blinkin' stuff
into sandwiches and send 'em
up."

The First Lieutenant went
down the ladder in silence.
The matter of the tinned beef
was to him, as mess caterer,
a continual sore point.

The T.B. started on a more
erratic course than before,

1918.]

taoking in long, irregular
stretches out to seaward.
Smoke was showing up against
the land astern, and there was
a sense of stirring activity in
the air.

Two more torpedo-boats ap-
peared suddenly from nowhere,
hoists of coloured flags flying
at their slender masts. The
three hung on one course a
moment, conferring, then spread
fanwise and separated. The
first boat turned back towards
harbour and the growing smoke-
puffa, whioh rapidly approached
and showed more and more
mine-sweepers coming out.

A droning, humming noise
made the Captain look up, and
he pivoted slowly round, fol-
lowing with his eyes a big sea-
plane a thousand feet above
him.

As the sound of the engines
died away, it seemed to start
swelling again, as another ma-
chine appeared a mile abeam
of them, and following the first.

The T.B. swung round ahead
of the leading sweepers, and
turned baok to seaward. Her
speed was not great, but half
an hour after the turn the
sweepers were hull down astern.
A small airship slipped out of
a low cloud and droned away
on the common course. Every
type of small craft seemed to
be going easterly, and the sea,
whioh an hour ago had been
almost blank, was now dotted
with patrol ships of every queer
kind and rig. From overhead
it must have looked like a pack
of hounds tumbling out of cover
and spreading on a faint line.
But, like the hounds, the float-
ing pack was working to an

H.M.S. . 207

end, and whatever the various
courses steered, the whole was
working out to sea.

The Boy Telegraphist hauled
himself, panting, on to the
bridge, and thrust a crumpled
signal before the Captain's
eyes. The Captain grunted
and spoke shortly, and the
boy dashed off below. A mo-
ment later the piping of calls
sounded along the bare iron
deck, and men in heavy sea-
boots began to cluster aft and
at the guns. The funnels sent
out a protesting spout of brown
smoke as the T.B. began to
work up to her speed, and the
choppy sea sent up a steady
sheet of spray along her fore-
castle and over the crouohiug
figures at the bow gun. The
rest of the pack appeared to
have caught the whimper too,
for everything that could raise
more than " Tramp's pace" was
hurrying due east. A faint
dull " boom " came drifting
down wind as the First Lieu-
tenant arrived on the bridge,
and the two officers looked at
each other in silence a moment.

"Bomb, sir?" said the
junior, showiog an interest
whioh almost made him con-
versational.

"Sure thing," said the other.
" She gave us the tip when she
saw him, and that'll be one to
put him under."

"How far d'you think it
was?"

" Seven-eight mile. You all
ready ? "

The First Lieutenant nodded
and slipped down the ladder
again. Three miles astern came
a couple of white specks the
bow -waves of big destroyers

208

pushed to their utmost power.
The Captain studied them a
moment with his binoculars,
and gave a grunt which the
helmsman rightly interpreted
aa one of satisfaction. Slow
as she was, the old T.B. had
a long start, and was going
to be on the spot first. The
dark was shutting down, and
the shapes of the other T.B.'s
on either beam were getting
dim.

The night was starlit, and
with the wind astern the T.B.
made easy weather of it. The
two officers leaned forward over
the rail staring ahead towards
the unseen land. Lights showed
on either hand, and occasion-
ally they swung past the dark
squat shape of a lit trawler,
also bound home.

"Are you going to claim?"
asked one of the watching
figures. The other paused be-
fore replying

" We-ell," he said, "Til just
report. / think we shook him
to the bunt, but it's no good
claiming unless you can show

H.M.S. . [Feb.

prisoners, Iron Cross and all."
Another ruminative pause.
"Your people were smart on
it devilish smart." Another
pause. " What's for dinner ? "

A dark mass ahead came
into view, and turned slowly
into a line of great ships
coming towards them.

The T.B. swung off to star-
board, and slowed her engines.
One by one they went past her
huge, silent, and scornful,
while the T.B. rooked uneasily
in the cross sea made by their
wakes. The Captain watched
them go, chewing the stem of
his unlit pipe. They were the
cause of the day's activity, but
it was seldom he met them at
close range except like this, in
the dark on his way home.

The line seemed endless,
more and more dark hulls
coming into view, and fading
quickly into the dark again.
As the last swung by the
T.B.'s telegraph bells rang
cheerfully, and she jogged off
westward to where a faint low
light flickered at intervals
under the land.

X. BETWEEN TIDES.

A stranger, if suddenly trans-
planted to the spot, would
have taken some time after
opening his eyes to realise that
the boat was submerged. He
would probably decide at first
that she was anchored in har-
bour. Far away forward, under
an avenue of overhead electric
lamps, figures could be seen
all either recumbent or seated
and from them the eye was led
on till it lost its sense of dis-

tance in a narrowing perspec-
tive of wheels, pipes, and
gauges. All the while there
was a steady buzzing hum
from slowly turning motors,
and about every half minute
there came a faint whir of gear
wheels from away aft by the
hydroplanes. From the bell-
mouths of a cluster of voice-
pipes a murmur of voices
sounded the conversation of
officers by the periscope j while

1918.]

H.M.S.

209

the ear, if close to the arched
steel hull, oould catch a bub-
bling, rippling noise the voice
of the North Sea passing over-
head.

The men stationed aft near
the motors were not over-clean,
and were certainly unshaven ;
some were asleep or reading
(the literature carried and read
by the crew would certainly
have puzzled a librarian it
varied from 'Tit -Bits' and
'John Bull' to ' Piers Plow-
man' and 'The Origin of
Species ') : a few were engaged
in a heated discussion as they
sat around a big torpedoman
the only man of the group
actually on duty at the moment.
His duties appeared only to
consist in being awake and on
the spot if wanted, and he was,
as a matter of fact, fully occu-
pied as one of the leading
spirits in the argument.

" Well, let's 'ear what you're
getting at," he said. "We
'eard a lot of talk but it don't
go anywhere. You say you're
a philosopher, but you don't
know what you do mean."

"/ know blanky well, but
you can't understand me," said
the engine-room artificer ad-
dressed. "Look here, now
you've got to die sometime,
haven't you?"

" Granted, Professor."

" Well, it's all arranged now
how you're to die, I say. It
doesn't matter when or how it
is, but it's all settled see ?
And you don't know, and none
of us know anything about it."

"That's all very well but
'oo is it knows, then? D'you
mean God?"

" No, I don't I'm an
VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

atheist, I tell you. There's
something that arranges it all,
but it ain't God."

"Well, 'oo the 'ell is it, then
the Admiralty ? "

The Artificer leaned forward,
his dark eyes alight and his
face earnest as that of some
medieval hermit. "I tell you,"
he said, "you can believe in
God, or Buddha, or anything
you like, but it's the same
thing. Whatever it is, it
doesn't care. It has it all
ready and arranged written
out, if you like and it will
have to happen just so. It's
pre pre "

" Predestination." The deep
voice came from the Leading
Stoker on the bench beside
him.

" Predestination. No amount
of praying's any good. It's no
use going round crying to gods
that aren't there to help you.
You've got to go through it as
it's written down."

"Prayer's all right," said
the Leading Stoker. "If you
believe what you pray, you'll
get it."

"That's not true. Have
you ever had it? Give us an
instance now "

"I don't pray none, thank
you. All the same, it's good
for women and such that go
in for it, like. It ain't the
things that alter; it's your-
self that does it.
never 'eard o'
Science ? "

"Yes; same as
mons, ain't it? Is
you are ? "

"No, it ain't an* I'm a
Unitarian, same as you are."

"I'm not I'm a Baptist,
O

Ain't you
Christian

the Mor-
that what

210

same as my father was; but
I don't believe in it."

" Well, if you believe in one
God, that's what you are."

"But I'm telling you, I
don't. Look here, now. I
don't believe there's anything
happens at all that wasn't all
arranged first, and I know
that nothing can alter it."

"Well, 'oo laid it all down
first go off, then?" said the
Torpedoman.

"Ah 1 I don't know and you
don't know; but I tell you it
wasn't God."

" Well, 'e's a bigger man
than me then, an' I takes me
'at off to 'im, 'ooever it is. I
tell yer, yer talkin' through
yer neck. You say if you're
going to be shot, there's a
bullet about somewhere in
some one's pouch with yer
name writ on it. Ain't that
it ? Well, 'oo the 'ell put yer
name on it, then ? "

" It doesn't matter to me
so long's it's there, does it ? "

" Well, if that was so, I'd
like to know 'oo 'e was, so's
I could pass 'im the word
not to 'ave the point filed off
of it for me, anyway."

" Well, you couldn't and he
couldn't alter it for you if he
was there, either."

The Torpedoman moved
along the bench and twisted
his head round till his ear was
against one of the voice-pipes.
The others sat silent and
watched him with lazy interest.
"We're takin' a dip," he
said. "Thought I 'eard 'im
say, 'Sixty feet/" The faint
rolling motion that had been
noticeable before died away,
and the boat seemed to have

H.M.S. . [Feb.

become even more peaceful and
silent. The Leading Stoker
leaned back against the hull
and rested his head against
the steel. From the starboard
hand there came a faint mur-
mur, which grew till the regular
threshing beat of a propeller
could be distinguished. The
sound swelled till they could
hear in its midst a separate
piping, squeaking note. The
ship passed on overhead, and
the threshing sound passed
with her and faded until again
the steady purr of motors re-
mained the only reminder of
the fact that the boat was
diving. They felt her tilt up
a little by the bow as she
climbed back to regain her
patrol depth.

"That's a tramp," said
the Torpedoman; "nootral, I
reckon."

" Squeaky bearing, too," said
the Artificer judicially. "Don't
suppose he's looked at his thrust
since he left port. What's the
skipper want to go under her
for?"

"Save trouble, I s'pose;
didn't want to alter helm for
'er. What was you talkin' of
yes, Kismet that's the word
I've been wantin' all along.
You're a Mohammedan, you
are?"

" Aw, don't be a fool ; I tell
you, I'm nothing."

The fourth wakeful figure,
another Torpedoman, spoke for
the first time. " If you're noth-
ing, and you think you're noth-
ing, what the 'ell d'yer want to
make such a fuss about it for ? "

"/dou't make a fuss. It's
all you people who think you're
something who make a fuss.

1918.] H.M.S.

You can't alter what's laid
down, but you think you oan.
You fuss and panic to stave
things off, but you're like
chickens in a coop you can't
get out till your master lets
you, and he can't understand
what you say, and he wouldn't
pay any attention to it if he
did."

The big Torpedoman put out
a hand like a knotted oak-root
and spoke

"You an' your Kismet," he
said scornfully. "Look 'ere,
now. This is gospel, and I'm
tellin' of yer. S'pose there is
a bullet about with your name
on it, but s'posin' you shoot

the other first, and there's

to 'ell with yer Kismet. Gawd
'elps those that 'elp themselves,
I say. S'pose we 'it a Fritz
now, under water ; 'oo's Kismet
is it ? Never mind 'oo's ar-
ranged it or 'oo's down in the
book to go through it, the
bloke that gets 'is doors closed
first and 'as the best trained
crew is goin' to come 'ome and
spin the yarn about it. I say
it may be written down as you
say, but there's Someone 'oldin'
the book, an' 'e says: * Cross
off that boat this time,' 'e
says. * They've got the best
lot aboard of 'em,' 'e'd say. Is
it Kismet if yer thrust collars
go? Are you goin' to stop
oilin' 'em because it's in the
book an' you can't alter it?
Yer talkin' through yer neck.
Call it luck, if yer like. It's
luck if we 'it a mine, and it's
luck if we don't, but if we meet
a Fritz to-night an' poop off
the bow gun an' miss that's
goin' to be our blanky fault,

211

an' you oan call it any blanky
name, but you won't alter it."

"But you don't under-
stand," said the Artificer. "I
didn't "

"Action Stations Stand by
all tubes." The voice rang
clearly from the mouth of the
voice-pipe, and the group leapt
into activity. For sixty sec-
onds there was apparent pan-
demonium the purr of the
motors rose to a quick hum,
and the long tunnel of the
hull rang with noises, clatter
and clang and hiss. The
sounds stopped almost as sud-
denly as they had begun, and
the voices of men reporting
"Beady" could be heard be-
yond the high-pitched note of
the motors.

The big Torpedoman stretched
across his tube to close a valve,
and caught the eye of the
fourth participant in the re-
cent debate. "Say, Dusty,"
he whispered, " 'ere's Some-
one's Kismet in this blanky
tube, an' I reckon I ain't forgot
the detonator in 'er nose,
neither."
> i

The Captain lowered the
periscope, his actions almost
reverent in their artificial
calm. He looked up at the
navigating officer a few feet
away and smiled. "Just turn-
ing to east," he said. "We'll
be in range inside three min-
utes." He glanced fore and
aft the boat and then back
at his watch. "By gum," he
said, " it's nice to have a good
crew. I haven't had to give
a single order, and I wouldn't
change a man of 'em,"

212

H.M.S.

[Feb.

XI, LIGHT CAVALRY.

I.

Peter Mottin was an act-
ing Sub-Lieutenant, but even
aoting Sub- Lieutenants from
Whale Island may hunt if
they oan get the requisite
day's leave and oan muster the
price of a hired mount. The
hounds poured out of Creech
Wood, and Mottin glowed with
intense delight as his iron-
mouthed horse took the rails
in and out of the lane and
followed the pack up the
seventy - acre pasture from
whence the holloa had come.
It was late in a February
afternoon, and most of the
dispirited field had gone home,
so that there was no crowd
and a February fox on a good
scenting day is a customer
worth waiting for. Mottin sat
back as a five-foot out and laid
hedge grew nearer, and blessed
the owner of his mount as the
big black cleared the jump
with half a foot to spare.
Two more big fences, cut as
level as a rule, and the field
was down to six, with three
Hunt servants. The fox was
making for Hyden Wood, and
scent was getting better every
minute. A clattering canter
through a farmyard, and Mottin
followed the huntsman over a
ramshackle gate on to grass
again. The huntsman capped
the tail -hounds on as he
galloped, and Mottin realised
that if they were going to kill
before dark they would have
to drive their fox fast. Biding

to his right he saw Sangatte
a destroyer officer, whom
he knew only by name but
whom he envied for the fact
that he seemed able to hunt
when he liked and could afford
to keep his own horses. As
they neared a ragged bull-
finch hedge at the top of a
long slope he saw Sangatte
put on speed and take it right
in the middle, head down and
forearm across his eyes. Mottin
eased his horse to give the
huntsman room at the gate in
the left-hand corner. The
pilot's horse rapped the top
bar slightly, and as Mottin
settled himself for the leap,
he saw the gate begin to swing
open away from him. There
was no time to change his
mind he decided he must
jump big and trust to luck,
but the black horse failed him.
The hireling knew enough to
think for himself, and seeing
the gate begin to swing, de-
cided that a shorter stride
would be safer. The disagree-
ment resulted as such differ-
ences of opinion are liable to
do in a crash of breaking
wood and a whirling, stunning
fall. Mottin rose shakily on
one leg, feeling as if the ankle
of the other was being drilled
with red-hot needles, and swore
at the black horse as it galloped
with trailing bridle down the
long stubble field towards
Soberton Down. He saw
Sangatte look back and then

1918.]

wrenoh his brown mare round
to ride off the hireling as it
passed. He oaught the dan-
gling reins and swung both
horses round, and came hurry-
ing and impatient baok. As
he arrived he checked the
mare and turned in his
saddle to watch the receding
pack.

" Come on," he said. " Quiok
you'll catch 'em at Hyden."
He turned to look at Mottin
by the gate-post, in irritation
at feeling no snatch at the
black horse's rein. His face
fell slightly. " Hullo hurt ?"
he said, and leapt from his
mare.

"Go on. Don't wait. Go
on," said Mottin. "I'll be all
right. You get on it's only
my ankle."

" Damn painful too, I expect.

H.M.S. . 213

I'm not going on. They'll be
at Butser before I could catch
them now, and I bet they whip
off in the dark." He threw
the reins over the mare's head
and left her standing. " Now,"
he said. " It's your left ankle ;
come here to the near side,
and put your left knee on my
hands and jump for it."

Mottin complied, and to the
accompaniment of a grunt and
a pain - expelled oath arrived
baok in the muddy saddle.

"I say, this is good of
you you know," he said ;
"but you've "

"Cut it out it won't
anything of a run,
lied Sangatte gloomily.

" Come along it's only three
miles to Droxford, but you'll
have to walk all the way, and
we'd better get on." . . ,

be
anyway,"

II.

The big seaplane circled
low over the harbour and
then headed seaward, climbing
slowly. There were two men
aboard a young Sub -Lieu-
tenant as pilot and Mottin as
observer. Mottin sat crouched
low and leaning forward as he
studied the chart-holder before
him and scratched times and
notes in his log-book. They
were off on a routine patrol,
but there was the additional
interest to the trip that on
" information received " they
were to pay a little more atten-
tion than usual to a particular
locality.

From his seat Mottin could
see nothing of the pilot but his

head and shoulders a back
view only, and that obscured
by swathings of leather and
wool. The two men's heads
were joined by a cumbersome
arrangement of listeners and
tubes which, theoretically,
made conversation practicable.
As a matter of fact, the invari-
able rule of repeating every
observation twice, and of add-
ing embroidery to each repeti-
tion, pointed to a discrepancy
between the theory and prac-
tice of the instrument. The
machine was a big one and its
engines were in proportion.
The accommodation in the
broad fuselage was consider-
able, but on the present trip

214

H.M.S.

[Feb.

the missing units of the orew
were accounted for by an
equal weight of extra petrol
and T.N.T. "eggs."

The morning had been hazy
and they had delayed their
start till nearly noon. It was
not as olear as it might be even
then, for in a quarter of an
hour from leaving the slip the
land was out of sight astern.
At a thousand feet the pilot
levelled off and ceased to olimb.
He flew mechanically, his head
bent down to stare at the com-
pass-card. At times he fiddled
with air and throttle, twisting
his head to watoh the revolu-
tion indicator t The occasional
bumping and rooking of the
machine he corrected automa-
tically without looking up. He
had long ago arrived at the
state of airmanship which
makes a pilot into a sensitive
inclinometer, acting every way
at once.

Mottiu finished his scrib-
bling and sat up to look round.
He raised himself till he sat on
the back of his seat, and began
to sweep the sea and horizon
with a pair of large -field
glasses. The wind roared past
him, pressing his arm to his
side as he faced to one side or
the other, and making him
strain the heavy glasses close
to his eyes to keep them steady.
An hour after starting he
touched the pilot on the shoul-
der and shouted into his own
transmitter. He waited a few
seconds and shouted again, with
the conventional oath to drive
the sound along. The pilot
nodded his swathed and hel-
meted head and swung the

machine round to a new course.
Mottin crouched down again
and began to study his chart
afresh. Navigation was easy
so long as the weather was
clear, but with poor visibility,
which might get worse instead
of better, he knew that it was
remarkably easy to get lost in
the North Sea, and at this
moment he wanted to see his
landfall particularly clearly.
Five minutes later he saw it,
and signalled a new course to
the pilot by a nudge and a jerk
of his gloved hand. A low
dark line had appeared on the
starboard bow, a line with tall
spires and chimneys standing
up from it at close intervals.
The seaplane banked a little as
they turned and headed away,
leaving the land to recede and
fade on their quarter. The
hazy sun was low in the west
and the mist was clearing.
It had been none too warm
throughout the journey, but it
was now distinctly cold, the
chill of a winter evening strik-
ing through fur and leather as
if their clothes had been slit
and punctured in half a dozen
places.

Mottin had just slid back in
his seat after a sweeping search
of the sea through his glasses,
and was slowly winding, with
cold fur-gloved fingers, the neat
carriage clock on the sloping
board before him, when he
heard a yelping war-cry from
the pilot and felt the machine
dive steeply and swerve to port.
He half rose in his seat and
then slipped back to feel for his
bomb-levers. The submarine
was just breaking surface eight

1918.] H.M.S.

hundred feet below and a mile
ahead. As he looked she tuoked
down her bow and slipped under
again, having barely shown her
conning - tower olear of the
short ohoppy waves. The pilot
throttled well down and glided
over the smooth, ringed spot
which marked where she had
vanished. As it slid past be-
low them he opened up hip
engines again and "zoomed"
back to his height. He turned
his head to look at Mottin, but
said nothing. Mottin made a
circular motion with his hand
and they began a wide sweep
round, climbing all the while.
Mottin sat back and thought
hard. No, it had not been in-
decision that had prevented
him from dropping bombs then.
He knew it was not that, but
the exact reasons which had
flashed through his mind at
the fateful moment must be
hunted out and marshalled
again. He knew that his
second self, his wide-awake
and infallible substitute who
took over command of his
body in moments of emergency,
had thought it all out in a
flash and had arrived at his
decision for sound reasons.
Yes, it was olear now, but that
confounded fighting substitute
of his was just a bit cold-
blooded, he thought. They had
petrol for the run home with
perhaps half an hour to spare.
Fritz had not seen them, as his
lid had not opened or at any
rate if he had seen them through
his periscope, the fact of no
bomb having been dropped
would encourage him to think
that the seaplane had passed

215

on unknowing. Of course they
might have let go bombs, but,
well, Fritz must have been
at anything down to 80 feet
at the moment they passed
over him, and it was chancy
shooting. Yes, it was quite
olear. Fritz should be up
again in an hour (he evidently
wanted to come up), and if
they were only high up and
ready they would get a fair
chance at him. Of course,
they would not get home if
they waited an hour; but if
that cold-blooded second self
of his thought it the right
thing and a proper chance to
take, well, it was so. Mottin
looked over the side and wished
it was not so loppy. A long
easy swell was nothing, but
this short ohoppy sea was
going to be the devil. The
pilot shouted something to him
and pointed at the clock and
the big petrol tank overhead.
Mottin nodded comprehension,
and shouted back. The Sub
took a careful look overside
and studied the water a mo-
ment. Then he laughed back
at Mottin, and shouted some-
thing about bathing, which
was presumably facetious, but
which was lost in the recesses
of the headpieces.

The sun was down on the
horizon, and the hour had
grown to a full ninety minutes
before the chance came. They
had not worried about clocks
or thoughts of petrol after the
first half - hour of circling.
They were "for it," anyhow,
after that, and it was going
to come in the dark too, so
that the question of whether

216

it was going to be fifty or a
hundred miles from land did not
make muoh difference. Almost
directly below them the long
grey hull rose and grew clear,
the splashing waves making a
wide area of white water show
on each side of her. The sea-
plane's engines stopped with
startling suddenness, and to
the sound of a rushing wind
in the wires and of ticking,
swishing propellers they began
a two -thousand feet spiral
glide, coming from as nearly
overhead as the turning circle
of the big machine would
allow. At two hundred feet
the pilot eased his rudder and
began a wider turn, and then
the German captain saw. He
leapt for the conning -tower,
leaving a startled look - out
man behind. The man tried
to follow him down, but the
lid slammed before he could
arrive at it. He turned and
looked helplessly at the big
planes and body rushing down
a hundred yards astern. With
his hands half raised and
shoulders hunched up the
poor devil met his death, two
huge bombs "straddling" the
conning -tower and bursting
fairly on the hull as the boat
started under. Mottin had a
vision of a glare of light from
the rent hull, a great rush
of foaming, spouting air, and
then a graceful knife-edge
stem, with the bulge of
torpedo-tubes on each side of
it, just showed and vanished
in the turmoil of broken water.
The seaplane roared up again,
heading west, the young pilot
apparently oblivious to the

H.M.S. . [Feb.

fact that he hardly expected
to be alive till morning dis-
playing his feelings on the
subject of his late enemy by
a series of violent "switch-
backs."

Mottin checked him, rose,
and began a careful look
round. Any ship would be
welcome now, neutral or not;
but this was an unfrequented
area to hope to be picked up
in. The petrol might last five
minutes or half an hour one
could not be certain. The
gauge was hardly accurate
enough in this old bus to
work by. As he looked the
engines gave a premonitory
splutter and then picked up
again. Well, it was five
minutes, he reflected, not half
an hour that was all. The
pilot turned and headed up
wind. With the engines miss-
ing more and more frequently
they glided down, making a
perfect landing of the "inten-
tional pancake" order on the
crest of a white-topped four-
foot wave. Instantly they
began to feel the seas the
hard, rough, senseless water
that was so different to the
air they had come from. The
machine made wicked weather
of it, and it was obvious that
she could hardly last long.
She lurched and rooked vici-
ously, constraining them to
cling to the sides of the frail
body. Mottin pulled off his
headpiece, and the pilot fol-
lowed suit.

"Well," said Mottin, "it was
worth iteh ? "

" By gum, yes ! It was
that, and I give you full

1918.]

numbers, sir. I thought for
a moment you had taken too
long a chance, but you were
right."

A wave splashed heavily
over the speaker and laid
three inches of water in a
pool around his ankles.

"This is going to be a
short business, sir, unless we
get busy."

"I know," said Mottin.
"Case of four anchors and
wish for the day. Sea anchor
indicated, and mighty quick
too." . . .

An hour later it was pitch-
dark, and a semi-waterlogged
seaplane drifted south, head to
sea, and bucketing her nose
into the lop. Two figures
crouched together in the body
of her, baling mechanically.
On the upper plane an electric
torch glowed brightly, point-
ing westward. The figures
exchanged disjointed sentences
as they baled, and occasion-
ally one of them would
stretch his head up for a
glance round for possible
passing lights.

"Cheer up, Sub!" said
Mottin. " Your teeth are
chattering like the deuce.
Bale harder and get warm."

"It's not the cold, it's
the weather that's doing me
in, sir. I'm so damned sea-
sick."

"Yes, it's a filthy motion,
but she's steadier than she
was. 'Fraid she's sinking."

The Sub-Lieutenant ceased
baling for a moment and
looked into his senior's face,
dimly lit by the reflection from
the torch overhead. " Do you

H.M.S. . 217

know, sir," he said, "I don't
feel as bucked as I did? I
believe I've got half-way to
cold feet about the show."

"Do you know, Sub"
Mottin copied the hesitating
voice " I've had cold feet the
whole blinkin' time? If it
wasn't for one thing I keep
thinking of, I'd be properly
howling about it."

"And what's that, sir?"

"D'you remember a line of
Kipling's in that ' Widow of
sleepy Chester' poem? It's
about * Fifty file of Burmans
to open him Heaven's gate/
Well, that's keeping me
cheered up."

"'Mm that's true. How
many do you think that boat
carried ?"

"Round about forty she
was a big packet."

"Only twenty file still,
that's good enough. Besides,
they'd have done damage to-
morrow if we hadn't got
them."

"True for you, Sub and
they might have killed women
on that trip. Now they won't
get the chance."

"Twenty file. Ugh! I'll
make 'em salute when I see
them. Hullo ! See that, sir ? "
The two men rose to their
knees and stared out to the
west. A bright glow showed
beyond the horizon, and
through it ran a flicker of
pulsating flashes of vivid
orange light. The glow broke
out again a point to the north-
ward, and the unmistakable
beam of a searchlight swung
to the clouds and down again.
As they looked the glow

218

spread, and the rippling flashes
as gun answered gun came
into view over their horizon.
Mottin fumbled for the glasses,
but found them wet through
and useless. The action was
evidently coming their way,
and was growing into a pyro-
technic display such as few are
fortunate enough to see.

" Destroyers coming right
over us Very's pistol, quick !
We may get a chance here.
Don't let the cartridges get
wet, man, put 'em in your
coat." The guns began to
bark clearly above the strain-
ing and bumping noise of the
crumbling seaplane, and a
wildly-aimed shell burst on the
water half a mile to windward.
Both men were standing up
now, staring at the extra-
ordinary scene. A flotilla of
destroyers passed each side of
them, one leading the other by
nearly a mile. The search-
lights and gun-flashes lit the
sea between the opposing lines,
and the vicious shells sent
columns of shining water up
around the rapt spectators,
or whipped overhead in a
continued stuttering shriek.

A big destroyer passed at
half a cable's length in a
quivering halo of light of her
own making. The short
choppy beam sea sent a steady
sheet of spray across her fore-
castle, a sheet that showed red
in the light of the guns. As
she passed the Sub- Lieutenant
raised his hand above his head,
and a Very's light sailed up
into the air, showing every
detail of the battered seaplane
with startling clearness for a

H.M.S. . [Feb.

few seconds. A searchlight
whirled round from the de-
stroyer, steadied blindingly on
their faces a moment, and was
switched off on the instant.
As swiftly as it had ap-
proached, the fight flickered
away to the eastward, till the
last gleam was out of sight,
and the two wet and aching
men crouched back into the
slopping water to continue
their baling.

"If they do find us, it'll be
rather luck, sir," said the
younger man. " She isn't
going to last much longer."

"Long enough, I reckon.
But they may go donkey's
miles in a running fight like
that. Is that petrol tank
free?"

"Yes, I couldn't get the
union-nut off it was burred ;
so I broke the pipe and bent it
back on itself. It'll hold all
right, I think at least it will
only leak slowly. Hullo, she's
going, sir."

" Not quite. Pass that tank
aft and we'll crawl out on the
tail. That'll be the last bit
under, and we may as well use
her all we can."

With gasps and strainings
they half -lifted, half-floated the
big tank along till they had it
jammed on end between the
rudder and the control-wires.
They straddled the sloping tail,
crouching low to avoid the
smack of the breaking seas,
their legs trailing in the icy
water. With frozen fingers
the Sub-Lieutenant removed
two Very's cartridges from his

1918.]

breast-pocket and tucked them
inside his leather waistcoat.

A flurry of snow came down
wind. The two were too wet
already to notice it, but as it
grew heavier the increased
darkness made Mottin lift his
head and look round. At that
moment a gleam of brightness
showed through to windward ;
as he looked it faded and
vanished. He leaned aft and
shouted weakly

" Come on, man, wake up !
Fire another one. They're
here!"

It seemed an age to him
before the pistol was loaded,
and his heart sank as a dull
click indicated an unmistak-
able misfire. He watched the
last cartridge inserted with
dispassionate interest. If one
was wet, the other was almost
certain to be, and Bang !
The coloured ball of fire soared
up into the driving snow, and
the pistol slipped from the
startled Sub-Lieutenant's hand
and shot overboard. The
searchlight came on again
and grew stronger and nearer,
and as the glare of it became
intolerable, a tall black bow
came dipping and swaying
past at a few yards' range.
Mottin almost let his will-
power go at that point the
relief was too great. He had
a confused memory afterwards
of crashing wood as the tail-
plane ground against a steel
side, and of barking his shins
as he was hauled across a wire
guard-rail and dropped on a
very nubbly deck. The ward-
room seemed a blaze of intense
light after the darkness out-

H.M.S. . 219

side, and the temporary sur-
geon who took charge of him
the most sensible and charming
person in the Service.

" Sit down take your coat off
lap this down. That's right.
Now, I have two duties in this
ship I'm doctor and I'm the
wine caterer. They are not in-
compatible. You will therefore
go to bed now in the Captain's
cabin, and you'll have a hot
toddy as soon as you're there ;
come along now (and get your
clothes off. Your mate is in the
First Lieutenant's cabin, and
he won't wake up till morn-
ing."

Twenty minutes later Mot-
tin, from beneath a pile of
blankets, heard a tinkle of
curtain rings and looked out.
A muffled, snow-covered figure
entered quietly and began to
peel off a lammy coat. Mottin
coughed.

" Hullo ! How are you feel-
ing ? I've just come for a
change of clothes. I won't be
long I'm Sangatte. No, that's
all right. I won't be turning
in to-night ; we're going right
up harbour, and I'll be busy
till daylight."

He bustled round the chest
of drawers, pulling out woollen
scarves, stockings, &o., and
talking rapidly. " Lucky touch
our finding you. I noted posi-
tion when your first light went
up, but as the chase looked
like running on ninety mile
yet, I didn't expect to find
you. Your joss was in, be-
cause the snow came down
and they put up a smoke-
screen and ceased fire, so we

220

lost touch, and I hadn't far
to oome back to look for you.
Got a Fritz, did you Good
man ! We'll have a bottle on
your decoration when we get
in. The Huns? Yes, they lost
their rear ship right off, and
the others were plastered good
and plenty. We lost one on
a mine, but we took the crew
off and sank her. I sank your
'plane just now tied a pig of
ballast to her and chucked it
over. I thought you might
have left some papers oh !
you've got 'em, have you?
That's good."

"Yes, they're in my coat
pocket. I say, haven't I
seen you before ? I seem
to remember you. Do you

H.M.S. . [Feb.

hunt?" Mottin stretched his
legs out sleepily as he
spoke.

"Yes met you with the
Hambledon or Cattistook, I
expect. Haven't been on a
horse for all of three years,
though; and I don't suppose
there'll be much doing that
way for a long time, now
they're putting half the coun-
try under plough. S'long.
I'm for the bridge; ring that
bell if you want anything.
The Doo.'s got one or two
wounded forrard, so he'll be
busy, but my servant '11 look
out for you." The curtain
clashed back, and Mottin,
turning over, slid instantly
into a log-like sleep.

XII. A TRINITY.

The way of a ship at racing speed

In a bit of a rising gale,

The way of a horse of the only breed

At a Droxford post-and-rail,

The way of a brand-new aeroplane

On a frosty winter dawn.

You'll oome back to those again ;
Wheel or cloche or slender rein
Will keep you young and clean and sane,
And glad that you were born.

The power and drive beneath me now are above the power of

kings,

It's mine the word that lets her loose and in my ear she sings
" Mark now the way I sport and play with the rising hunted

sea,
Across my grain in cold disdain their ranks are hurled at me.

1918.] H.M.S. . 221

But down my wake is a foam-white lake, the remnant of

their line,
That broke and died beneath my pride your foemen, man,

and mine."

The perfect tapered hull below is a dream of line and curve,
An artist's vision in steel and bronze for the gods and men to

serve.

If ever a statue oame to life, you quivering slender thing,
It ought to be you my racing girl as the Amazon song you
sing.

*

Down the valley and up the slope we run from scent to view.
"Steady, you villain you know too much I'm not so wild

as you;
You'll get me cursed if you catch him first there's at least a

mile to go,
So swallow your pride and ease your stride, and take your

fences slow.
Your high-pricked ears as the jump appears are comforting

things to see;

Your easy gallop and bending neck are signals flying to me.
You wouldn't refuse if it was wire with oalthrops down in front,
And there we are with a foot to spare you best of all the Hunt !"

Great sloping shoulders galloping strong, and a yard of
floating tail,

A fine old Irish gentleman, and a Hampshire post-and-rail.

The sun on the fields a mile below is glinting off the grass
That slides along like a rolling map as under the clouds I pass.
The early shadows of byre and hedge are dwindling dark below
As up the stair of the morning air on my idle wheels I go,
Nothing to do but let her alone she's flying herself to-day,
Unless I chuck her about a bit there isn't a bump or sway.
So there s a bank at ninety-five and here's a spin and
a spiral dive,

And here we are again.

222 H.M.S. . [Feb.

And that's a roll and twist around, and that's the sky and there's
the ground,

And I and the aeroplane

Are doing a glide, but upside-down, and that's a village and
that's a town

And now we're rolling back.

And this is the way we olimb and stall and sit up and beg on
nothing at all,

The wires and strainers slack.

And now we'll try and be good some more, and open the throttle
and hear her roar

And steer for London Town.

For there never a pilot yet was born who flew a machine on a
frosty morn

But started stunting soon,

To feel if his wires were really there, or whether he flew on ice
or air,

Or whether his hands were gloved or bare,
Or he sat in a free balloon.

KLAXON.

1918.]

223

SHIPPING AND AGRICULTURE.

OUR political leaders now
exhort us to readjust all pre-
oonoeived ideas on the subject
of agriculture, and to erase
from our minds once and for
all the shibboleth thereon cur-
rent in the century which has
elapsed since the wars with
Napoleon. Up to the very
opening of the blockade of
Great Britain by German mine
and submarine, it had been
insistently dinned into our ears
that agriculture must on no
account be allowed to develop,
because, forsooth, it was de-
clared that a prosperous farm-
ing industry must, by employ-
ing the small available margin
of labour, be disadvantageous
to both manufactures and
shipping. For the bulk of
the nation, so said such political
economists, it was surely better
that every man possible should
be employed in manufactures
rather than in the production
of corn and cattle. Because,
said they, our immense fleets
of merchant shipping were able
to bring as much foodstuffs to
the shores of Great Britain
as she could possibly want,
whereas the farmer at the best
of times was capable only of
raising on her soil three-fifths
of the necessary meat and but
one-fifth of the corn needed to
fill the mouths of her hungry
millions. And, to clinch the
argument, it would be at a far
greater cost to the nation.

Plausible doctrines such as
these unfortunately led to the
ousting of agriculture from her

rightful position, that of the
basic industry of the United
Kingdom, and now that a
world-war is once more upon
us, have resulted in laying a
responsibility, over - heavy in
consequence, upon the ships,
officers, and men of our Mer-
cantile Marine.

Memorable for ever in the
annals of that courageous body
will be the 29th of October
1917, for then, by the votes of
both Houses of Parliament, the
self-sacrificing services of what
was of old known as the Mer-
chant Navy of England were
placed side by side with those
of her present Battle Squad-
rons. This national vote of
thanks is a new thing in
history, accorded for the first
time for war services to the
Mercantile Marine, though
very far from being the first
time such public acknowledg-
ment has been deserved. How-
ever, the country's seeming
ingratitude arose probably
from the fact that in earlier
days barely any distinction
existed between the services
demanded by England from
the ships of both her Navies,
the vessels belonging to mer-
chants being, as a matter of
course, armed, equally with
those of the Royal Navy, for
peace as well as for war.

In the present trend of
political feeling in favour of
Home Rule, not only for Ire-
land but in every sphere of
public life, it is curiously inter-
esting to trace a decided rever-

224

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

sion in outward semblance to
the system of government
devised by Norman and Plan-
tagenet kings. Aooording to
extremists of to-day, each
division of Great Britain, nay,
eaoh separate county, is entitled
to complete self-government
under one federal Parliament.
And in olden times, as we all
know, a seeming autonomy,
though in substance, of course,
unlike that now talked about,
was actually possessed by every
city and burgher-town. Eaoh
district, also, in the country
was ruled over by a feudal
lord, whose sway none dared
to dispute so long as he duti-
fully mustered his men-at-arms
at the King's call, and wrung
the subsidies allotted by Par-
liament to the Crown from the
lands and goods of his sturdy
vassals. Then again, over all
matters pertaining to the sea,
"the Admiral of England"
presided : a needful devolution
of authority, designed to check
the rapacity of England's kings.
In 1248, for instance, the Lords
of Parliament refused to grant
a supply to the third Henry,
basing that refusal on the
ground that, "Whatsoever of
eatables and drinkables, and
even in his robes, but particu-
larly in the wines that he used,
his custom was to take it by
force from the lawful owners
and venders of them. By
these means greatly injuring
his natural -born subjects, as
well as foreign merchants who
brought goods into this king-
dom. And that the trade by
which nations enrich eaoh
other would be ruined."
Nigh a century later, at a time

so critical that to raise money
to carry on war with France,
Edward, King of England, was
positively forced to pawn not
merely the jewels of his Queen,
but his very Crown also to a
foreign archbishop, the feudal
system of government, entailing
as it did the minimum of ex-
pense to the country for the
maximum of effect in the raising
of fighting forces, had, it must
be confessed, considerable ad-
vantages. Edward, the third
of his name, and the Black
Prince, being then absent at
the war, and an enemy fleet of
400 sail lying off Sluys, the
proceedings of a Parliament
hastily assembled, to prevent a
landing by the French, prove
with what ease and rapidity
the defence of the realm could
then be provided for.

To this Parliament came
merchants, owners of ships, and
mariners, to be consulted by
the Lords and Commons as to
the surest means for the keep-
ing the sea and for defence of
the North Marches. Finally,
after much discourse, the
mariners of the Cinque Ports
agreed on the 20th of January
to make ready their ships
before mid -Lent. "Twenty-
one ships of their own and nine
of the Thames, and to bear
half the charges themselves
[more than their Charter
obliged them to do] ; the other
half the Privy Council pro-
mised to bear of their own
good will to their King and
Country, but not of duty, for
that should stand for a pre-
cedent. The mariners of the
West promised to set forth
ninety sail and ten ships of the

1918.

Skipping and Agriculture*

225

burden of one hundred ton or
more, and to bear the whole
charges if they could. Two
sufficient scholars were ap-
pointed to compute the charges,
the one for the West and the
other for the Cinque Ports, and
it was ordered that the larger
ships of Portsmouth and the
West should ride at Dart-
mouth ; the Admiral to be
Kiohard Fitz-Alan, Earl of
Arundel. And that the ships
of the Cinque Ports should ride
at Winohelsea ; the Admiral to
be William Clinton, Earl of
Huntingdon."

The charter of the Cinque
Ports, in the time of William
the Conqueror, had fixed the
wages of each master of a ship
at sixpence a day, equal by
Edward the Third's reign to at
least eight shillings and four-
pence of our pre-war money,
and had also decreed that each
of the then stipulated crew of
twenty-one sailors was to be
paid a daily threepence.

The defence of the towns
most open to attack was not
overlooked by this Parliament,
Lord Richard Talbot and the
Bishop of Winchester, together
with the Abbot of Hyde and
the Prior of St Swithin's,
undertaking the defence of
Southampton, and Sir Thomas
Rokeby that of the Castles of
Edinburgh and Stirling. Then
to ensure provisions for the
town of Berwick, two mer-
chants of Lyme Regis and
Barton- upon -Humber agreed
to deliver there 10,000 quarters
of all kind of grain though
at double the normal price
every quarter of wheat and
malt at nine shillings, and oats,
VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

beans, and peas at five shillings.
A proviso was added " that
under cover of their licence,
they were not to lend aid to
the King's enemies." To com-
plete the mobilisation, nobles,
knights, and gentlemen of York,
Nottingham, Derby, Lancaster,
Westmorland, and Cumberland,
arrayed and set out soldiers to
the number of 7400 men-at-
arms, 200 archers on horseback,
and two thousand halbardiers.

Another proof, if one is
needed, of the right of the
Crown to the services of all the
merchant shipping of the realm
is given by the so called Naval
Parliament, summoned in 1344
by the ever - victorious Ed-
ward III. Every seaport in
the kingdom, in obedience to
the royal command, sent dele-
gates to London to give the
King an exact account of all
the shipping of their respective
towns. At the siege of Calais,
two years later, every vessel,
both small and great, was
pressed, together with their
crews, into the fleet of 700
English and 38 foreign ships
commanded by the King.
And Edward did not show
himself ungrateful, for when
in 1350 the merchants com-
plained of the depredations of
the Spanish pirates, he an-
swered not merely in gracious
fashion, that he "knew the
very beginning of the kingdom
depended on its commerce,"
but also at the head of a fleet,
hastily got together, himself
cleared the Channel of the
marauding vessels.

The first hint of separation
between the two Navies of
England was not given until
P

226

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

some fifty years later, the year
after the sea-battle of Milt'ord
Haven. At that date a Commis-
sion was appointed by Parlia-
ment no longer to demand the
services of merchant ships as a
right, but to " treat with the
merchants for the safeguard-
ing of the seas." The curious
agreement then drawn up runs
as follows :

" That the merchants, marin-
ers, and owners of English ships
shall find and provide sufficient
and able ships for 2000 fighting
men, and 1000 seamen for a
year and a half. To answer
which expense they shall be
allowed upon account 12d. in
the pound of merchandize and
3s. 5d. on every tun of wine:
with the fourth part of the
subsidy & on wools, wool- fells,
and skins granted in the last
Parliament : and that the mer-
chants in levying the said sums
should have warrants under
the privy seal as there was
occasion.

"That the merchants shall
enjoy all such prizes as they
shall take, having due consider-
ation for the King's Captains
when he shall appoint any.

" That if the Royal Navy of
the enemy shall happen to be
at sea, and the King make out
against them, then the mer-
chants aforesaid shall have one
month's notice to provide.

" The merchants aforesaid
shall have reasonable warn-
ing of any peace or truce to be
made: after which they shall
have due consideration for all
their charges.

" That the merchants name
two persons, one for the South
and the other for the North,

who, by commission, shall have
the same power as other Ad-
mirals have on a like occasion.

"Lastly, the merchants de-
manded that they should have
in advance the sum of 4000,
but the answer was the King
had it not."

The check given to com-
merce by the constant war
services expected from the
Merchant Navy of England
was not so great, as might well
be imagined from modern con-
ditions. The most part of the
trade of the kingdom was then
in the hands of the Hanse,
Flemish, Genoese, and Vene-
tian merchants, all of whose
vessels were exempt, most un-
fairly, from seizure for the
purposes of war. Assuredly,
the merchants of medieval
England, however jealous they
might be of the foreign privi-
leges, comprehended as well
as those of to-day that the
triumph of an enemy must, in
the long-run, cost them far
more than any service, paid or
unpaid, compelled from them
for the defence of the realm.
And, too, for the reason that
the produce of England then
sufficed to feed the realm, the
sacrifices demanded from the
merchants of earlier times were
far less rigorous than those
now cheerfully undertaken by
the owners, officers, and men
of the Mercantile Marine. To-
day, not only have our merchant
ships to act in their ancient
capacity, that of reinforcements
to the Royal Navy, but they
have also to use words spoken
in the House of Lords in moving
the vote of thanks to the armed
forces of the crown "to keep

1918.]

Shipping and Agriculture.

227

up, in spite of constant danger,
a fleet of steamers conveying
to this country clothing and
the raw materials of industry
besides necessary food, as well
as acting as carriers, purveyors,
and feeders to our Allies."
"If," as was asserted by an-
other speaker on the same
occasion, " the officers and men
of the Eoyal Navy were para-
ded, they would insist on the
officers and men of the Mer-
cantile Marine taking the right
of the line. Why ? " he asked,
answering in the same breath,
" because they feed them. They
enable the Army and Navy to
fight." Thus spoke a distin-
guished admiral of to-day in
generous recognition, be it
noted, of services rendered vital
to Great Britain by the adop-
tion, strangely enough, of a
policy first suggested to an
English Parliament by a sea-
man of world renown more
than three centuries ago. And,
extraordinary as it may appear,
the internal condition of Eng-
land, which then made such a
proposition appear reasonable,
was much the same as that of
Great Britain at the beginning
of the present terrible war : in
both ages husbandry had been
allowed to fall into decay.

It is cheering to country
dwellers to see in our daily
papers the opinion of one of
the greatest of Victorian
statesmen "that the nation
which neglects its agriculture
is bound to decay" quoted
once more by politicians with
respect in place of derision, for
it is to be hoped that con-
fession of political blunders
must inevitably lead to per-

manent amendment. This one
great difference ^exists, ^how-
ever, between the late cruel
blows which have now brought
agriculture to her knees, and
those which in Tudor times
robbed her of her productive
powers. To-day a political
creed is to blame; but then
the neglect of husbandry lay
in economic conditions which
no laws, good or bad, had the
power to modify to any great
degree, conditions which may
be summarised as lack of
labour, the decline of the
landed classes, and the increas-
ing value of wool. " Covetous-
ness coming down at the head
of a numerous army of sheep,"
as a fifteenth - century writer
expressed it, "fell with great
fury on the populous villages,
and drove out their ancient
inhabitants with a mighty
slaughter."

Then, again, the debasement
of the coinage, begun by Henry
VIII. and continued through-
out the next reign, combined
with wars and bad seasons,
had brought about a rise in
the cost of provisions, akin to
that we now suffer from ; and
the increased cost of living,
aggravated by the system of
land tenure then in vogue, had
ruined the smaller country
gentry the margineers, to
give them their latest Parlia-
mentary designation whose
ultimate fate is once again
trembling in the balance.

But to return to Tudor
times. The landed classes
then, even "though they left
not off to enclose still," in con-
travention of prohibitory stat-
utes and royal proclamations,

228

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

had some excuse for their dis-
obedience. From the system of
life-leases, they, as now again
their successors, under the pro-
visions of the Corn Produc-
tion Act, were precluded from
raising agricultural rents, and
this notwithstanding the great-
ly increased value of the land.
Evidently even the rapacious
King, when enriching himself
with the spoils of the religious
houses, had no power to in-
crease the rents of farms let
after the then custom. Other-
wise should we find him, in
the Act for the Dissolution of
Monasteries and Priories, per-
mitting the existing tenants
of Abbey lands "to have and
to hold the same for the term
of their life or lives, so that
the old rent be reserved."
Under this land tenure, with
unelastic incomings and ever-
expanding expenses, can we
wonder that the landlord, who
had shared in none of his
tenant's profits, should, when
a lease, granted perhaps by his
grandfather, chanced to fall
in, either exact a large fine for
renewal, or, rather, from want
of funds to repair farm build-
ings, let the farm itself to go
out of cultivation for the more
profitable feeding of sheep?
The impoverished state of
country gentlemen from the
effect of long leases is thus
represented in a supplication
addressed to Henry VIII. in
1544. "Scarce a worshipful
man's land," it declares, "which
in time past was wont to feed
and maintain twenty or thirty
tall yeomen, a good plentiful
household for the relief of
many poor and needy, and the

same now is not sufficient
to maintain the heir of the
same lands, his wife, her gentle-
woman, a maid, and two yeo-
men or lackeys." Bishop
Hooper, writing to Secretary
Cecil in 1551, seven years after
this Supplication was presented,
complains that "the price of
meat has become immense, be-
cause cattle are no longer bred,
but only sheep, and they not
brought to market, but to bear
wool and profit only to their
masters. The body of a calf,"
he continues, " is in the market
for fourteen shillings, and two
muttons for nine shillings and
fourpenoe." Twenty years be-
fore, " a great veal had been but
4s. 8d., and a fat mutton cost
but 2s. lOd." In vain the legis-
lature endeavoured, even as to-
day, to put down the price of
meat by commanding London
butchers to sell beef and veal
for no more than a penny
farthing the pound for the
best parts, and the neck and
legs for three farthings; gone
for ever were those happy days,
then not far distant, when a
clear income of five pounds was
reckoned a good living for a
yeoman or parish priest the
coin representing that sum
having in the reign of Edward
VI. less than half its ancient
powers of purchase. To take,
for instance, merely one silver
coin. The test on or tester
had been originally issued by
Henry VIII. for twelvepence;
but, a few years later, to bring
a fraudulent gain to the Ex-
chequer, it was debased by him
with copper, then called brass,
so as to be worth no more than
sixpence. " Testons," jeered the

1918.]

Shipping and Agriculture.

229

oommon people, "are gone to
Oxford to study at Brazen
Nose."

It is for financiers to explain
why it is that our present
paper money, though of tke
same face value as the ooin
it represents, possesses far less
of its purchasing power. We,
who now feel the effects un-
witting of remoter financial
causes, blame not, as the Food
Controller bids us, "the ex-
pansion of credit and inflation
of the currency," but the more
tangible machinations of the
profiteer and middleman. "I
have not," said Lord Khondda,
when propounding measures
now in operation for control
of bread and flour, " been able
to obtain a satisfactory defini-
tion of the term profiteering,
or to determine in what degree
it is responsible for the present
high range of prices." To pre-
vent the undefinable, however,
the price of British wheat had,
he proceeded to assure us, been
fixed, and to stop profiteering
and unnecessary intertrading
by middlemen, millers were
being encouraged to buy direct
from the farmer ; and moreover,
where the services of a mer-
chant were necessary for
proper distribution, the profit
on each transaction was limited
to not more than one shilling
the quarter.

Writers of great authority in
the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, Adam Smith at their
head, declared that the offence
of profiteering or, to give it
its then title, forestalling ex-
isted only in the imagination
of an ignorant populace. But,
however that may be, through-

out England's history strict
laws against it were made by
the kings and Parliaments of
every age.

For example, a statute of
the second Edward, enacted in
1324, decreed that no fore-
staller should be suffered to
dwell in a town " which for
greediness of his private gain
doth prevent others in buying
grain, fish, herring, or any other
thing which is to be sold
coming by land or water, op-
pressing the poor, and deceiv-
ing the rich, which carrieth
away such things intending
to sell them more dear : The
which cometh to Merchant
Strangers that bring mer-
chandise, offering them to
buy, and informing them that
their goods might be dearer
sold than they intended to
sell, and a whole town or a
country is deceived by such
craft and subtlety. He that
is convict thereof, the first
time shall be amerced, and
shall lose the thing so bought,
and that according to the
custom and ordinance of the
town : He that is convict the
second time shall have judge-
ment of the pillory : and the
third time he shall be im-
prisoned and make fine : The
fourth time he shall abjure
the town. And this manner
of judgement shall be given
upon all manner of fore-
stallers, and likewise upon
they that have given them
council, help or favour."

There is no ambiguity
about this statutory defini-
tion of forestalling, although
by the time of Edward VI.
kindred offences had also to

230

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

be, if possible, prevented ; and
so another law "against re-
grators, forestallers, and in-
grossers" was made and pro-
vided.

Now, strangely enough, the
edict of 1552 points out first,
just as did Lord Bhondda in
1917, the indefiniteness of the
crime, but then proceeds, which
he did not, to set forth the dis-
tinguishing marks by which it
might best be recognised.

"Albeit," declares the pre-
amble, "divers good statutes
heretofore have been made
against forestallers of mer-
chandise and victual, yet for
that good laws against re-
grators and ingrossers have
not been heretofore sufficiently
made and provided, and that
also for that it hath not been
perfectly known what person
should be taken for a re-
grator and ingrosser, the said
statutes have not taken good
effect according to the minds
of the makers thereof. There-
fore be it enacted by the King
our Sovereign Lord, with the
assent of the Lords spiritual
and temporal and by the
Commons of the present Par-
liament assembled, that what-
soever person shall buy or
cause to be bought any mer-
chandise, victual, or any other
thing coming by land or water
to any market or fair to be
sold in the same, or coming
to any port, city, creek, or
rode, of this realm or Wales,
to be sold, or making any
promise, contract or bargain
for the buying or having of
the same, or any part thereof,
coming as aforesaid, or by
word or message dissuading

persons from bringing mer-
chandise to be sold as afore-
said, shall be deemed taken
and adjudged a forestaller."

The statute then proceeds
to enumerate the merchandise
which it was unlawful to
regrate, forestall, or ingross;
and so comprehensive is the
list that, had not a special
clause allowed butchers, fish-
mongers, maltsters, and poul-
terers to regrate the provisions
of "their own trade or mys-
tery," a summary stop must
have been put to all sale and
barter of provisions through-
out the kingdom. Corn, wine,
fish, butter, cheese, tallow,
sheep, lambs, calves, swine,
pigs, capons, hens, chickens,
pigeons, conies, together with
any other dead victual, were
comprised in it. "And he
who should buy the same in
any market or fair and sell
again in any other market or
fair holden within four miles
thereof, shall be accepted,
taken and reputed a regrator."
The purchasing of corn grow-
ing in the field and of the re-
sale of cattle and sheep sooner
than five weeks after their
purchase was placed under the
head of ingrossing, as also the
transporting of newly bought
corn or cattle with the like
intent, within forty days. In
almost every particular the
penalties to be inflicted under
the statute of 1552 are, strange
to say, identical with those
laid down for the punishment
of like offences in 1324.

Statutes notwithstanding, to
ingross corn for the use of the
City had ever been the privi-
lege of the Mayor of London.

1918.]

Shipping and Agriculture.

231

Hence, though the famine was
sore in the land, and "bread
so scant that the poor, plain
people, as in Queen Mary's
time, might make very much
of aoorns," London folk were
ever fat and well -liking.
Among the many granaries
of the City, Bridgehouse and
the Leadenhall were the chief ;
and for the proper storing
of one and all the Mayor
of London was held respon-
sible. A custom this, after
the manner of Joseph in
Egypt, which again in this
our day might surely be pro-
fitably practised. An instance
of its utility is related by
Stowe concerning one "Boger
Aohley, Mayor of London," in
the year 1512, the 3rd of
Henry VIII.

When this Mayor, says he,
"entered into the mayoralty,
there was not found one hun-
dred quarters of wheat in all
the garners of the city, either
within the liberties or near
adjoining it ; through the
which scarcity, when the carts
from Strat ford-on- Avon came
laden with bread to the city,
as they had been accustomed,
there was such press about
them, that one man was like
to destroy another in striving
to be served for their money.
But this scarcity did not last
long; for the Mayor in a
short time made such pro-
vision of wheat that the
bakers both of London and
Stratford were weary of tak-
ing it up, and were forced to
take up more than they would,
for the rest the Mayor laid
out the money, and stored it
up in Leadenhall and other

garners of the city. This
Mayor," adds Stowe, revealing
an aspect of city government
unhappily now fallen into dis-
use, "kept the market so well,
that he would be at the
Leadenhall by four o'clock in
the summer's mornings ; and
from thence to other markets,
to the great comfort of the
citizens."

The Merchants of the Hanse
League, among their other
privileges, possessed that of
storing up the grain they
imported for forty days, unless
expressly forbidden by the
Mayor in time of dearth or
pestilence. Surely there can
be nothing that shows the
decline of tillage during the
fifteenth and sixteenth cen-
turies more clearly than the
laws regulating the import and
export of grain. Before the
fifteenth century, England
being par excellence a grain-
exporting country, the law,
though prohibiting " the trans-
porting of corn to parts beyond
the seas," without a licence,
under the price of a noble (six
shillings and eightpenoe) for a
quarter of wheat, and three
shillings a quarter for barley,
had laid no restraint, other
than the king's prerogative,
upon a negligible importation.
However, by 1462, more wool
and less corn being then pro-
duced, we find farmers com-
plaining of the merchants of
the Hanse "bringing in such
an abundance, when corn was
at such an easy price in this
realm," that it was ordained
that as long as wheat and
barley were below the export
price no man should bring corn

232

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

into the kingdom "upon for-
feiture of one half to the King
and one half to the seizor
thereof." Now, at the date of
this complaint against the
imports of the Hanse, wheat
was selling in England for no
more than fourpenoe a bushel ;
"all manner of victual was
great cheap, and great scarcity
of money ; " so that to prohibit
both import and export under
a sum fixed well above the
usual market price was, as is
the guarantee given to farmers
under the present Corn Produc-
tion Act, to insure the farmer
against loss by foreign com-
petition, to prevent corn from
rising to famine prices, as
well as to give an impetus to
tillage in place of pasture,
surplus grain being then
quickly absorbed by exporta-
tion. It follows, therefore,
that at the time of the making
of the first of England's Corn-
laws, even the most rabid of
Free-traders must have ad-
mitted their undoubted utility.
Though as certainly would he
have girded against them a
.hundred years later: the iden-
tical regulations remaining in
force, in spite of the fact that
wheat never sold then below
eight shillings a quarter. By
the regulations of the fourteen
hundreds corn production was
stimulated. By the operation
of the same law a century after
it was actually discouraged, ex-
port of grain being, by the low
rate fixed, practically forbidden,
and import allowed before a
fair market price had been
reached.

During the reigns of the
boy-king Edward and his sister
Mary, a great rise took place

in the importance of merchant
shipping, on the opening of
new markets by the discoveries
of Columbus and his followers.
In exchange for wool, cloth,
leather, and tin, merchant
vessels, never exceeding the
burden of 150 tons, penetrated
to the Levant and beyond,
bringing thence silk, carpets,
oil, wine, and spices. From
the coasts of New Guinea the
explorer Chandler returned
laden with the precious cargo
of dates, almonds, and the
scarce sugar, which then sold
for eight pence, or, in our pre-
war money, five shillings and
fourpenoe a pound. The dis-
covery and opening to English
commerce of the port of Arch-
angel belongs also to Mary's
short reign, and nothing can
give a better idea of the
growth in importance of the
English Merchant Adventurers
than Stowe's account of the
magnificent and expensive re-
ception accorded by that Com-
pany to the first of Kussia's
Ambassadors. Queen Mary
too, by the advice, it is said,
of her Spanish husband, gave
great encouragement to Eng-
lish trade by raising the low
custom of but one per cent
payable by Hanse merchants
to as much as twenty per cent.
Other aliens, as a matter of
course, paid double the customs
of merchants native born, the
Hanse exoepted, who had
gained the privilege of low
custom in compensation for
the loss, three hundred years
previously, of wellnigh all their
fleet in the service of King
Henry III.

In the middle years of the
sixteenth century a world-

1918.]

Shipping and Agriculture.

233

shortage of provisions, much
the same I fancy as that which
no/w threatens us, troubled the
rations. Writing in 1550 to
/ihe English Council, our Am-
bassador in Paris compares, in
terms which might be used
to-day, the food resources of
France and England. "It is
a marvellous thing," says he,
" to see the dearth in this
country. I assure your Lord-
ships that all kinds of victuals
bear double the price of what
they do in England."

It was asserted by Mr
Runciman, speaking in the
Parliament of 1917 on the
burning topic of food supply,
that the chief criminals, in
the opinion of those who talk
loosely on profiteering, were
the shipowners; although, as
he then proved, the rise in
freights since the war began
was barely commensurate with
war risks. Another instance,
perhaps, that in every age
hungry men and women will,
rightly or wrongly, attribute
high prices to the carriers as
well as the vendors of pro-
visions. Of this we have an
example. A statute of Philip
and Mary shows that, how-
ever innocent the shippers of
1917 may be in the opinion
of the present Parliament,
the merchants and ship-
owners of 1554 were as as-
suredly held guilty of the
worst form of profiteering
that of exporting provisions
from dearth-stricken England
to the still more starving folk
beyond the seas.

"Whereas," runs the accus-
atory preamble of this decree,
"sundry good estatutes and

laws hath been made within
this realm, in the time of the
Queen's Highness's most noble
progenitors, that none should
transport or convey out of this
realm to any place beyond the
seas, corn, butter, cheese, or
any other kind victuals (except
only for the victualling of the
town of Callioe, Hames, and
Guisnes) under divers great
pains and forfeitures in the
same contained : That notwith-
standing many and sundry in-
satiable persons, seeking their
own lucre and gain, do daily
carry and convey innumerable
quantities of corn, cheese,
butter, and other victuals, as
wood, out of this realm, into
parts beyond the seas. By
reason whereof corn, victual,
and wood are grown into a
wonderful dearth and extreme
prices, to the great detriment
of this your Highness's realm,
and your faithful subjects of
the same."

The provisions of the statute
following upon the above scath-
ing accusation, though care-
fully providing condign pun-
ishment for those smuggling
food out of the country, not
merely do not offer encourage-
ment for home production of
corn, but by re -enacting the
ancient export law the lowest
price for wheat being far above
the old rate actually stopped
the husbandman from raising
corn by making its production
ruinous. The result of such
short-sighted policy was shown
only three years later, when
the scarce wheat fetched the
enormous price of 2, 15s. 4d.
a quarter, the value of
money then being at least

234

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

eight times greater than
now.

The envious words used by
the Venetian ambassador in
England, when writing home
to his Republic during the
reign of Mary, lend colour to
the parliamentary accusation
against merchants and ship-
owners. They were written,
too, it should be remembered,
during a time, in England, of
almost unprecedented dearth.
" There are," he declared,
" many merchants in London
with 50,000 or 60,000 each
in ready, the population is
180,000, and the city is not
to be surpassed in wealth by
any in Europe." The riches,
spoken of with such ad-
miration, were, though the
Venetian omitted to mention
it, for the most part in the
hands of alien merchants. All
the financial dealings of the
kingdom being, to the disgrace
of England, managed by
Italians the Longabard mer-
chants who, until Sir Thomas
Gresham built the Royal Ex-
change, transacted business in
what we now call Lombard
Street. Then, too, as has been
already said, the Hanse mer-
chants, with those of the Staple
of German and Flemish nation-
ality, loft but a comparatively
small part of England's com-
merce as the share of the
native-born Merchant Adven-
turers. Indeed, to encourage
foreigners was the royal policy,
for to have a large body of
wealthy aliens dwelling in the
realm was, until the advent of
Elizabeth, necessary in order
to fill the war-depleted purses
of England's sovereigns.

For every fresh loan raised
to defray the cost of the pres-
ent world -war, a novel de-
vice to loosen public purse-
strings is employed. Now it
is the "Tank Banks" which
tour the country to gather
contributions; later, perhaps,
airships will take their place
awaiting inspection for the
same purpose; unluckily for
our forebears in the days of old,
the raising of money for war
uses had no such interesting
accompaniments. Subsidies,
often cruelly collected, replen-
ished the war- chest or, if an
obstinate Parliament denied
such constitutional aid, forced
" benevolences " took their
place, the only alternative bor-
rowing abroad carrying with
it a too ruinous rate of interest.

Henry VIII. was one of the
first of England's monarchs to
borrow money from his own
Merchant Adventurers; history,
however, does not say whether
he ever repaid it. It is cer-
tain, though, that to suit his
own convenience, he lowered
the legal rate of interest to
10 per cent. Later the Gov-
ernment of his son, on religious
grounds, so they said, abolished
all rates of legal usury, while
Mary, though she revived her
father's law, was obliged to
suspend it for the purpose of
raising a war-loan from the
merchants of London, at the
exorbitant rate of 12 per
cent secured on the Crown
lands. For Mary, to serve her
husband, had outrun the con-
stable at the Bourse at Ant-
werp. Burdened with the vast
debts of the two preceding
reigns, Elizabeth at her ao-

1918.]

Shipping and Agriculture.

235

cession found her exchequer
still further embarrassed by
commutation of the fifteenths
and tenths, the right of the
Crown, which would have
otherwise risen with increase
of wealth and population, to
the fixed annual sum of
32,000. "Want of treasure,
artillery, and force" was her
unfortunate inheritance, and
an unsatisfactory peace with
France the result. "The
Queen," said a writer of 1559,
" since her accession has been
scraping money together on
all sides, paying nothing and
giving nothing to her people,
and spending very little. She
has paid off large debts which
Mary contracted at Antwerp."
The report, too, of Sir Thomas
Gresham, England's financial
agent at Antwerp, reveals the
effect, her honour and credit
at the Bourse there being, he
declared, "so augmented that
no prince had the like."

By the advice of Sir William
Cecil, among Elizabeth's econo-
mic measures, in the opening
years of her reign, in order, as
she proclaimed, to abate high
prices, was the re-coining of the
coins debased in former reigns.
For, as the prudent Minister
averred, "that realm can not
be rich whose coin is mean and
base." And this measure, by
temporarily addiog scarcity of
money to the existing dearth
of food, drew the attention of
Government to the pitiful con-
dition of artificers and labourers,
whose wages, fixed in a former
age, lagged by that time far
behind the still rising prices.

Can it be called anything
less than astounding to find

that the problems laid before
a Parliament of 1552 are iden-
tical in all essentials to those
grappled with by their succes-
sors in 1917. To take the
wages question :

In 1917 the difficulty of fixing
a minimum wage in currency
was pointed out in Parliament,
the proper test, it was alleged,
being real wages. As an ex-
ample, the period of 1895-1899
was cited, when, though " cur-
rency wages," said the speaker,
"were as low as 14s. 6d. a
week, the agricultural labourer
was nearly three times as well
off as with the 25s. of to-day.
The Government," he declared,
"would be wise to depend on
something more stable than a
currency wage." In 1562 pre-
cisely the same question was
discussed, although naturally
the conditions of the present
working population are essen-
tially different from that of
labourers in the reign of Eliza-
beth. At the present time,
Labour with a capital L is
the virtual master of Great
Britain, Then, not only had
labour no voice in Parliament,
but, villeinage being still some-
thing more than a legal fiction
for those whose sole wealth
was their power to labour, the
law provided in Biblical wise
that he who would not work
neither should he eat. And
although the celebrated Eliza-
bethan poor-laws had not then
been enacted, by former decrees
of Henry VIII. and Edward
VI., masters as well as parishes
were bound, as strictly as in
feudal days, to provide and
care for their sick or disabled
poor. Therefore the provisions

236

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

of the statute of 1562, which
gave the adjustment of our-
renoy wages into the hands of
looal authorities, possessed safe-
guards, as does the Act of
1917, against misuse of author-
ity for private ends. In 1562
the existing laws were, it was
said, impossible to put in force
for the reason now again with
us, that " the wages *nd allow-
ances limited and rated in
former statutes are in many
places too small and not
answerable to this time,
respecting the advancement of
prices of all things, so that
without great grief and burden
of the poor labourer and hired
person, the law could not be
put in good and due execution."
As to the new statute, it was
hoped, said the makers thereof,
that being duly executed it
" will banish idleness and yield
unto the hired person, both in
time of scarcity and plenty,
a convenient proportion of
wages." It would be too
lengthy a process to go
through all the clauses, inter-
esting though each one un-
doubtedly is, of the statute of
1562. Its provisions, drastic
to our ideas, contain neverthe-
less something more than the
germs of recent legislation, and
were, it should be remembered,
the means of saving the agri-
cultural labourer from starva-
tion during the wars with
Napoleon.

Under Elizabeth all persons
with less than forty shillings
a year from freehold were com-
pelled to work under pain of
imprisonment, the service en-
tered upon was to last a year,
and no master might "put

away his servant," nor any
servant leave his master with-
out a quarter's notice on either
side, to be given before two
witnesses ; and during the pre-
scribed term the mandate of a
justice could alone dissolve the
partnership. This custom, too,
was in force up to the end of
the eighteenth century, as wit-
nesseth a magistrate's book in
my possession. Then, again,
the intent of the law of 1562
being chiefly, as is that of 1917,
to encourage husbandry, the
clauses which concern work on
the land are more rigorous than
those respecting artificers. All
men between the ages of thir-
teen and sixty, other than
gentlemen born, university
students, or "apprentices to
fishermen or sailors using the
sea," were pressed into the
service, as well as every unmar-
ried woman between the age of
ten and forty.

Work was begun young in
those hard days, and daily
lasted, according to the statute,
from 5 A.M. in the summer till
between 7 and 8 P.M., and the
labourer was bound not to
depart from it save for break-
fast, dinner, or drinking. For
breakfast half an hour was
allowed. An hour for dinner,
and another half-hour for drink-
ing and sleep, "when he is
allowed to sleep," added the
statute, "which is from the
midst of May to the midst of
August."

In the winter, "from the
spring of the morning until
night," the poor labourer toiled
at his task, absence from it
entailing, for every hour's ne-
glect, the deduction of a penny

1918.]

Shipping and Agriculture.

237

from his hardly earned wage.
And Parliament, in 1562, fixed
the amount of that wage after
much the same manner as that
settled upon by the Aot of their
successors in 1917.

Daring the late debates
in the House of Lords on
the establishment of Wages
Boards, it was pertinently
asked whether it was pro-
posed to pay the chairman,
the secretary, and the labour
members of such bodies a
question which remained un-
answered. The Aot in its
completed form, unlike its
prototype in the reign of
Elizabeth, omitting also to
mention how much money the
new officials will be entitled to
draw from the pockets of the
long-suffering taxpayer.

The Elizabethan statesmen
left nothing to the imagination
in the setting forth of their
statute. Yearly within six
weeks of Easter, the sheriff
and justices in country dis-
tricts and the mayors or
bailiffs of towns were ordered
to "assemble themselves to-
gether, calling unto them such
discreet and grave persons of
the city, town or county, as
they shall think meet, and
confer with them together re-
specting the plenty or scarcity
of the times and other circum-
stances necessary to be con-
sidered"; and authority was
given them, "within the limits
of their commissions, to rate
and appoint the wages of
artificers, handyoraft men,
husbandmen, or any other
labourers or servants as they
shall think meet at their dis-
cretion. By the day, week,

month, or otherwise. With
meat and drink or without
meat and drink. And the
wages they shall take by the
great [piece-work]" namely,
"mowing, reaping, thatching,
paving, railing, or hedging.
By the rod, perch, lugge, yard,
pole, rope, or foot or any other
reasonable labour." Finally,
the decision of the assessors
setting forth the causes and
considerations thereof was or-
dered to be sent, engrossed
on parchment under their
hands and seals, to the Court
of Chancery. Whence, if it
passed muster, a printed pro-
clamation was to be sent to
the sheriffs and mayors, who
were "to cause it to be pro-
claimed in open market in
every city and town."

Unlike the provisions of the
Act now in force, the statute
of 1562 provided that the rate
of wages once fixed by the
justices for the year might
not be increased in a given
district, drastic penalties await-
ing the employer who, by offer
of higher pay, decoyed away
the servant of one poorer than
himself.

The work of justices at their
Easter meetings, for both
assessing the wages and ad-
judicating on all oases arising
under the forty-eight compli-
cated clauses of the Aot, was
rewarded with five daily shil-
lings, payable out of the fines
and forfeits which might fall
due, and that only during the
actual time they should be en-
gaged on it.

On the subject of food
scarcity, it cannot but be
of interest to find that the

238

Shipping and Agriculture.

[Feb.

help given to the Huguenots
under Conde by the occu-
pation by English troops of
Havre de Grace, or as it was
then christened, Newhaven,
was attended by results near
akin to those which are now
in part brought about by the
supplies we send out to our
army in France.

"In the year of our Lord
1563," records one Richard
Allhigton, "was such scarcity
of victuals in London by the
serving of Newhaven that in
ye Lent herrings was sold for
twa a penny when they were
best oheape either white or red,
Essex cheese for 6d. ye Ib. and
barrel butter for 7d. and 8d.
ye Ib. A bad stockfish for 6d.
or 8d. and so forth all other
victuals/*

The great price of fish, butter,
and cheese, especially in Lent,
pressed hardly on the people of
that day, inasmuch as those
rash persons who would not
comply with the law command-
ing the Queen's lieges to eat
fish, both in Lent and on three
days of the week besides,
throughout the year, were
liable to three months' prison
or a fine of three pounds. For
the infirm and sickly a licence
to eat flesh was procurable,
provided, if the sick were of a
noble degree, that the sum of
twenty-six shillings and eight-
pence were paid into the parish
box. A knight's licence brought
the poor thirteen shillings and
fourpenoe, and those of lower
rank six shillings and eight-
pence. To ensure as much as
possible the keeping of the fish
days, churchwardens were given
authority to oversee the en-

forced alms for the purchase of
licences, and a third part of the
fines of those who transgressed
by eating meat without licence
was payable to the parish in
which the offender dwelt. This
quaint statute, which provided
also for the growing of flax and
hemp for the making of fishing-
nets, is entitled "Politic con-
stitutions for the maintenance
of the Navy," and expressly
sets forth that "No manner
of person shall misjudge of the
intent limiting orders to eat
fish and to forbear eating of
iiesb, but that the same is pur-
posely intended and meant
politiokly for the increase of
fishermen and the repairing of
port towns and navigation, and
not for any superstition to be
maintained in the choice of
meats."

Although the Royal Navy,
as Mr Lloyd George has ex-
pressed it, is so vital to Britain
as to be "like one of those
internal organs essential to
life, but of the existence of
which we are unconscious until
something goes wrong," the
insignificant fishing craft with
their complement of daring
seamen are, as this war has
shown us, equally indispens-
able. Without their heroic
services, both in their separate
sphere of mine - sweeping as
well as in escorting and scout-
ing for the battleships, Eng-
land, declared the Prime
Minister in tendering British
fishermen the thanks of Great
Britain, must inevitably have
"been blockaded by a ring of
deadly machines anchored round
her shores."

KATHARINE F. DOUGHTY,

1918.] 239

ON P A T R O L. V.

"... THAT HAVE NO DOUBTS."

RUDYABD KIPLING,

THE last resort of Kings are we, but the voice of peoples too

Ask the guns of Valmy Ridge

Lost at the Beresina Bridge,

When the Russian guns were roaring death and the Guard was
charging through.

Ultima Ratio Regis, we but he who has may hold,
Se ourantes Dei ourant,
Hear the gunners that strain and pant,

As when before the rising gale the Great Armada rolled.

Guns of fifty sixty tons that roared at Jutland fight,

Clatter and olang of hoisting shell ;

See the flame where the salvo fell
Amidst the flash of German guns against the wall of white.

The sons of English carronade or Spanish culverin
The Danish windows shivered and broke
When over the sea the children spoke,

And groaning turrets rooked again as we went out and in.

We have no passions to call our own, we work for serf or lord,

Load us well and sponge us clean -

Be your woman a slave or queen
And we will clear the road for you who hold us by the sword.

We come into our own again and wake to life anew
Put your paper and pens away,
For the whole of the world is ours to-day,

And it's we who'll do the talking now to smooth the way for you.

Howitzer gun or Seventy -five, the game is ours to play,
And hills may quiver and mountains shake,
But the line in front shall bend or break.

What is it to us if the world is mad? For we are the Kings to-day.

240 On Patrol V. [Feb.

SKY SIGNS.

WHEN ALL THE GUNS ARE SPONGED AND CLEANED, AND FUZES

GO TO STORE,
WHEN ALL THE WIRELESS STATIONS CRY "COME HOME, YOU

SHIPS OF WAR"

"COME HOME AGAIN AND LEAVE PATROL, NO MATTER WHERE
YOU BE."

We'll see the lights of England shine,
Flashing again on the steaming line,
As out of the dark the long grey hulls come rolling in from sea.

THE LONG-FORGOTTEN LIGHTS WILL SHINE, AND GILD THE
CLOUDS AHEAD,

OVER THE DARK HORIZON-LINE, ACROSS THE DREAMING DEAD
THAT WENT TO SEA WITH THE DARK BEHIND AND THE SPIN

OF A COIN BEFORE.

Mark the gleam of Orfordness,
Showing a road we used to guess,
From the Shetland Isles to Dover Cliffs the shaded lane of war.

UP THE CHANNEL WITH GLEAMING PORTS WILL HOMING

SQUADRONS GO,
AND SEE THE ENGLISH COAST ALIGHT WITH HEADLANDS ALL

AGLOW

WITH THIRTY THOUSAND CANDLE-POWER FLUNG UP FROM FAR

GRIS-NEZ.

Portland Bill and the Needles' Light
Tompions baok in the guns to-night
For English lights are meeting French across the Soldiers' Way.

WHEN WE COME BACK TO ENGLAND THEN, WITH ALL THE

WARRING DONE,
AND PAINT AND POLISH COME UP THE SIDE TO RULE ON TUBE

AND GUN,

WE'LL KNOW BEFORE THE ANCHOR'S DOWN, THE TIDINGS
WON'T BE NEW.

Lizard along to the Isle of Wight,
Every lamp was burning bright,

Northern Lights or Trinity House we had the news from you !

KLAXON.

1918.J

241

FROM KUT TO KASTAMUNI.

KUT had fallen, and it was
with sad feelings that we
watched two Turkish bat-
talions marching in at mid-
day on April 29, 1916. The
bitter thought that they should
have worsted us in the end, to-
gether with the knowledge of
the useless sacrifice of life by
our friends down-stream, was
present to all; but there was
also a great feeling of relief
that the siege was now over,
and we had not realised until
this moment how severe the
strain had been.

We believed the Turks would
treat all ranks well, as up to
that moment they had always
fought and behaved like gentle-
men. Khalil Pasha, the Turkish
General, had said we should be
treated as his " honoured
guests," and since at that time
we had not had much experi-
ence of Turkish promises, we
were inclined to think all would
be well, although we knew the
Turks themselves were short of
supplies and had great diffi-
culty in feeding their troops
down-stream.

Orders came round telling us
to destroy everything that
could be of use to the enemy,
only a few rifles being kept in
case of trouble with Arabs in
the town before the Turks
arrived. Field - glasses, re-
volvers, maps, and diaries all
had to be destroyed and sad-
dlery burnt. It seemed a crime
to be sacrificing so much that
was valuable, but this was
better than helping the enemy

VOL. ccni. NO. MCCXXVIII.

in any way. The last works of
destruction had only just been
completed when the Turkish
troops arrived, and great was
their disgust at finding all the
guns destroyed, and nothing
worth taking but a few rifles.

Some of us had kept our
swords, thinking that they
would be returned to us in
traditional style, only to find
them collected by the first
Turkish subaltern or KC.O.
who set eyes on them. Those
who were wiser had thrown
theirs in the river or buried
them, and we all wished we
had done the same. Later on
we heard that the officers'
swords from Kut had been dis-
played as an interesting exhibit
in some museum at Constanti-
nople.

The departure from Kut be-
gan that evening, one steamer
taking a full load up to Sham-
ran, the Turkish base camp,
some eight miles up-stream.
We had still to depend on the
remnants of our own rations
for that day and the next, but
fortunately they just sufficed.

Next day as we moved up
towards the old Serai, near
which the steamers were
moored, we had to pass a palm
grove which had been occupied
by some Turkish soldiers. These
men were systematically looting
any kit which was being carried
past, and to which they had
taken a fancy. A good deal
was lost in this way. The
Turkish officers seemed power-
less to stop it, the culprits
Q

242

From Kut to Kastamuni.

merely walking away until the
officer had departed.

The steamer made two or
three more trips that day, but
it was announced at noon that
all those left must march, their
kit alone going on the steamer.
How they managed that march
in a starving condition they
only know who did it, but when
the steamer reached Shamran
on its last trip at midnight
they had all come in and been
regaled with Turkish ration
biscuits. An amusing incident
occurred during this march.
An Indian sweeper the hum-
blest of all regimental followers
was trudging along behind
his regiment carrying some of
the articles of his trade, when
they passed some Turkish gun-
pits where there were several
German officers standing. On
seeing them the sweeper made
obeisance with the deepest of
salaams; whereupon the Ger-
mans promptly stood to atten-
tion, olioked their heels and
saluted.

During the following days
we made ourselves as comfort-
able as possible at Shamran,
and fortunately got other food
in addition to the Turkish bis-
cuits. These biscuits need only
be once seen or eaten never to
be forgotten. They are of
a dark -brown colour, unless
mouldy, about six inches in
diameter and an inch thick in
the centre, and made from a
very coarse meal which must
contain anything except wheat.
They are even harder than the
hardest of our own army
biscuits.

The Turks had allowed us to

[Feb.

bring with us what tents we
had in Kut, and although we
had to leave them behind at
Shamran, they were of the
greatest comfort to us during
the week which we spent there.

A launch arrived from the
relieving force bringing with it
barges laden with food, includ-
ing a number of mess stores
and gifts. These we eventu-
ally got possession of, although
the Turks would not allow them
to be landed at our camp, but
took them up-stream some dis-
tance, where we expected they
would take a systematic toll of
everything. Turkish soldiers
and Arabs brought in dates, a
few oranges, and a syrup made
from dates, which they sold at
excessive prices.

Bathing was allowed in the
river, and some enthusiasts who
still had fishing tackle spent a
considerable time on the bank,
but without much success.

One day, General Townshend
passed up-stream in a launch
accompanied by two or three
of his staff en route to Bagdad.
All ranks rushed to the bank
to give him a parting cheer,
which one felt meant that all
knew he had done his best for
us throughout.

With the end of the siege one
had expected all the worst
features of the last few weeks
to disappear, but the heavy
mortality from enteritis con-
tinued at Shamran. It was
especially heavy amongst the
British ranks, in many oases
being aggravated by a too sud-
denly increased diet, of which
the Turkish biscuits formed a
large part.

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

243

A few days after our arrival
it was announced that the men
would all have to march up,
while officers would be taken
up in batches by the steamers.
The first party to leave con-
tained the generals and staff,
and most of the officers from
British units. The following
day the men were to march.
Our doctors insisted on a very
thorough examination, as a
large proportion of the men
were unable to march. The
Turks would not, however, ao-
eept the British doctors* deci-
sions, and reduced the unfit to
a much smaller number.

The result was that large
numbers fell out after the first
day, and had to be taken on
board a steamer, the Julnar,
which was bringing up a num-
ber of men from the Kut hos-
pitals whom the Turks con-
sidered not ill enough to be
exchanged. We were all con-
vinced that had it not been for
German counsels at Constanti-
nople some arrangement for
our return on parole to India
might have been made.

The men were told to take
one blanket or greatcoat each,
as well as their haversacks and
water-bottles. They had no
transport whatever, and our
hearts misgave us as we watched
them go. The column wound
slowly; out of the camp with
many checks, and it was over an
hour before they were clear;
all seemed to be carrying big
loads, and many things must
have been thrown away or sold
before they reached Bagdad.
The Turks were only too anxious
to buy, when they could not steal

any clothing, boots, or equip-
ment, their own clothing and
equipment being at a very low
ebb after months of service in
Mesopotamia, to say nothing of
the long march down from Asia
Minor. Many had no boots,
and were just wearing sandals
of goat -skin, such as they are
accustomed to use in the coun-
try districts of Anatolia.

When the men had departed
the camp seemed very forlorn ;
about 150 British and Indian
officers were left, while the
hospital tents contained many
sick of all ranks.

Two days later, on May 10,
the second party of officers left
on the steamer Khalifa, which
had on board a few German
gunners returning to Bagdad
and a good number of Turk-
ish officers. The journey took
three days : on the second day
we passed the Julnar, the
steamer which made such a
gallant effort to run the
gauntlet into Kut with a
month's supply of food. She
was covered with bullet-marks,
showing through what a severe
fire she had forced her way.
Now she was loaded with sick
from Kut. We waved to those
on board, but were not near
enough to speak to them.

Our steamer used to tie up
to the bank for a short while
twice a day, in the morning
and evening, enabling us to get
a hurried bathe and a little
change from the cramped space
on the deck, where we spent
the rest of the time.

The third day we passed
the battlefield of Ctesiphon,
full of memories of the victory

244

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

which had proved so disas-
trous six months before. The
famous Aroh of Ctesiphon,
built 1400 years ago, stands
up as a noble landmark over
the flat desert country, and is
seen for many miles in all
directions. We halted for the
night not far from the Arch,
and were greeted by the local
Arabs, who danced and fired
off ancient rifles and pistols
in the air in derision at our
captivity. The women also
contributed their share by
making a peculiar kind of
trilling sound. How we hoped
they might soon be singing in
a very different fashion when
our troops should advance
again and take Bagdad.

We reached Bagdad the
next morning. As we slowly
paddled up the river we could
see the Red Crescent flag
floating from almost every
good house on the river sides :
hospitals seemed to be every-
where, and we realised what
awful casualties the Believing
Force had inflicted on the
Turks.

For some miles before Bag-
dad is reached the river is
fringed with palm groves,
gardens, and cultivated land.
When we left Kut the river
was within a few feet of the
highest ground, but here the
banks were very much higher.

We were landed at the old
British Residency, and, after a
little delay, were formed up
in order of seniority and
marched off along what ap-
peared to be the main road.
It was evidently arranged as
a triumphal procession to

impress the inhabitants. At
length, after a march of two
miles, passing through the
covered-in bazaar, where the
shade was most welcome, we
emerged on the north side of
the town, and reached our
destination at the Cavalry
Barracks. We had been pro-
mised furnished quarters, but
found bare floors and empty
rooms : the building formed a
large quadrangle, and was
empty of all troops when we
arrived. A little later our
orderlies and servants appeared
bringing our kit from the
steamer. On leaving Sham-
ran colonels were allowed to
take two orderlies or Indian
servants, other officers being
allowed one each.

Fortunately, just before we
left, some money in Turkish
gold had been sent up by the
Relieving Force by aeroplane,
and thus all ranks had a little
cash.

When the second party
reached Bagdad the first party
had already departed for
Mosul, and rumours arose
about the journey, people say-
ing at first that we should
have carriages from the rail-
head at Samarra, then that
only donkeys would be avail-
able, while others thought we
should be lucky to get any-
thing.

While at the barracks we
were given a month's pay by
the Turkish authorities, on
what proved to be for senior
officers a very generous scale,
the greatest mercy being that
half the amount was paid in
gold. Had this not been done

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

245

we should have been in a truly
sorry plight on the long jour-
neys by road across the desert,
since no Arab would look at
Turkish notes, and insisted on
being paid in hard oash.

At this time the Russian
force under General Baratoff
had made a sudden advance
through the Pusht - i - Kuh
mountains and reached Khani-
kin, ninety miles north-east of
Bagdad ; the Turks were there-
fore very anxious to get us
away, while some of the under-
strappers, evidently thinking
the Russians would reach
Bagdad, began to talk in a
very different strain, pretend-
ing that they had really been
pro-British all the time.

Very few people succeeded
in getting out of the barracks,
but two or three officers, duly
escorted, managed to get a
gharry, and drove straight to
the American Consul, who ar-
ranged to give them money,
and did everything he could
for them. He said he expected
to see many of us, and went on
to tell them exactly what he
thought of the campaign up
to date. He was very pessim-
istic over the future treatment
of the British troops, and de-
clared that had we known
what would happen to them
we would have cut our way
out of Kut at whatever cost.
We hoped this was exaggera-
tion, and that things would
not turn out as badly as he
expected; but events proved
only too truly how entirely
his fears were justified. Hope-
lessly inadequate rations, no
transport, no medical arrange-

ments for the sick who fell
out, and utter incapability of
all Turkish authorities, con-
stitute one of the blackest
crimes committed during any
war.

It is only right to add that
whenever we met German of-
ficers they did all they could
to help us, more than one
saying they considered that
we and they were civilised
people in a land of barbarians.

Two days after reaching
Bagdad we were paraded in
the hot sun in the afternoon
and marched off to the station,
passing over the bridge of
boats and through the Shia
quarter of the city, which lies
on the right bank of the river.
We were all only too glad to
get away from the insanitary
conditions which are insepar-
able from all Turkish build-
ings.

After a wait of two hours
at the station we were packed
into a train which started about
six o'clock. A few miles north
of Bagdad we passed the Great
Mosque at Kazmain, its golden
domes and minarets shining in
the setting sun. The train
proceeded at a good rate;
everything in connection with
the railway was naturally
German, and of a substantial
description. The length of
line then completed to the
railhead at Samarra was eighty
miles, passing through slightly
undulating country the whole
way.

Most of us were weary, and
many preferred lying on the
floor of the corridors or vesti-
bules at the end of the cars, to

246

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

sitting straight up in the
oramped compartments. We
made several halts, and it was
near midnight when we ar-
rived. Our guards, a few
gendarmes, seemed to have no
idea where we were going, or
what was to be done with us.
Eventually we were told to
leave our kit, whioh was to be
brought along later, and were
guided down towards the river.
After walking a mile we found
ourselves in a small Arab vil-
lage on the river bank, and
were conducted into a court-
yard some forty yards square,
where we were told we were to
stay. There was a rough shel-
ter round three sides, formed
by brushwood supported on a
rough wooden framework ; this
promised a certain amount of
shade, and we were all glad
to be in the open air, rather
than in another barrack build-
ing. There were no signs of
any transport fetching our kit,
so the most enterprising man-
aged to procure two trolleys,
and trundled them up to the
station along a narrow-gauge
line. The Turks used this line
for taking stores, ammunition,
&o., to the railway, from the
rafts en whioh they were
floated down from Mosul. By
dawn nearly all the kit had
been collected, and we had
settled down as best we
could.

There was a certain amount
of food obtainable from Arab
vendors, and as we had our
Indian servants, and a few
things left from stores received
at Shamran, we were fairly
comfortable. As usual, no one

seemed to know how long we
were to be there, before our
journey by road across the
desert began. Fortunately we
were not guarded very strictly,
and were allowed to go outside
the courtyard, and down to
the river to bathe ; the current
here was very strong, and only
the most powerful swimmers
could make any headway
against it, and that only for
a few yards.

The town of Samarra was
on the other bank, and some
little height above the land on
our side. It stands back from
the river, and contains a fine
mosque with a golden dome.
The inhabitants cross the river
in gufahs, the large round
coracles whioh are used all
down the Tigris. Owing to
the current a start always has
to be made very much higher
up-stream than the point where
it is desired to land on the
other side.

During the three or four
days which we spent at
Samarra, a large quantity of
German gun-ammunition ar-
rived by raft from up-stream,
and was carried by Arabs up
the bank to the trolleys. These
rafts carry big loads : they are
formed by a skeleton frame of
wood on which is placed brush-
wood, the frame being sup-
ported by inflated skins whioh
are tied to it. On reaching
the end of a journey the skins
are deflated and sent back up
the river to be used again.
As there are rapids between
Samarra and Bagdad, it was
not possible to float the rafts
right down to Bagdad, and

From Kut to Kastamuni.

1918.]

consequently everything had
to be transhipped to the rail-
way. One night some large
motors arrived, and went on at
onoe by road towards Bagdad.
Reports immediately circulated
that Enver Pasha had arrived,
but this cannot have been
true.

We had now learnt who our
Commandant on the journey
was to be. He was a Yuzbashi
or Captain, by name Elmey
Bey, a little man with an enor-
mous moustache, which made
him look very fierce ; he knew
a very little French, and could
therefore be approached with-
out an interpreter. We did
not really appreciate him until
later. One morning he escorted
a few of us over to the town :
there was nothing to be seen
except the mosque, and we
were not allowed to look at
this even from the gateway,
much less to enter the court-
yard.

After making a few pur-
chases, we went into an Arab
cafe and partook of coffee and
tea flavoured with citron.
Elmey Bey would not let us
pay for anything, and we
thought it most hospitable of
him. He said he would accept
our hospitality another day.
However, he eventually left
the cafe without paying any-
thing, and apparently the pro-
prietor was really our unwilling
host.

The town seemed very de-
serted, many of the inhabitants
being over on the other side
selling anything they could to
the first batch of troops, who
had reached Samarra that

247

morning by rail, and were now
camped in the open a little
way above us. We were not
allowed to go to see them, but
one or two managed to get
messages through, and an
Indian clerk belonging to my
regiment came to see us, He
looked thin, and had evidently
had a hard time. He said that
on the way to Bagdad the
guards had flogged men who
fell out, to see if they were
really ill, and that conditions
as regards rations were pretty
bad generally. None of our
men, however, had succumbed
so far, and as many of the
regiment had been anything
but fit to start with, we hoped
they would be able to stand it.
We gave him a few little things
in the way of eatables before
he went back.

The next day we were told
we were going to march, and
the question of transport be-
came all-important. At first
the Turks said there would be
two animals donkeys, mules,
or ponies to each officer ; this
seemed much too good to be
true, and when the time came
there was barely one animal to
every officer. These had all
been forcibly commandeered
from the villagers round, and
a good many were taken back
again on the sly by their
owners before we could get
hold of them. Others were
taken by the gendarmes who
formed our guard, while several
were too small to be of use, or
were hopelessly lame. By the
time we had got our kit packed
we had left for riding one
reasonably large donkey and a

248

From Kut to Kastamuni.

diminutive beast between the
six officers and seven Indian
servants in our mess.

We started at sunset in a
dust - storm. Fortunately it
did not last long, and we got
along without mishap till
about eleven o'clock, when a
heavy rainstorm came on. All
through the night, and especi-
ally after every halt, we had
been urged on by our Arab
escort shouting " Yallah, yal-
lah!" This really means "O
God ! " but is used by the
Arabs for "Get on and hurry
up." How we came to loathe
that cry ! About two in the
morning we reached some
water; luckily in the dark we
could not see what we were
drinking. We must have done
fifteen to twenty miles, and as
most of us had not marched
any distance for months, we
were only too glad to fall
asleep for a few hours. At
dawn we were again on the
move, having had some trouble
in finding our own animals
again; the wise had marked
theirs with copying pencil, and
this method was generally re-
sorted to afterwards.

We went on with halts of
a few minutes every hour, and
got down to the river again
at midday. It was now pretty
hot, and we were told we
should arrive at Tekrit, a
small Arab town, in one hour.
Throughout Turkey and Meso-
potamia distances are meas-
ured by hours ; a good work-
ing plan is to add on fifty
per cent to the average of
what one is told, as no two
men will ever say the same;

[Feb.

if journeying by night it is
safer to double it.

That last hour to Tekrit
was one of the worst we had ;
actually it was nearer two
hours. There was a blazing
sun, and we were very tired.
The road left the river and
went up a hill, then down and
up again. On each rise we
expected to see the town, but
it was dreadfully slow in ap-
pearing. From some distance
off we were met by Arab
boys and women selling eggs,
raisins, sour curds, and ohupat-
ties. Finally we were taken
through the place down to the
river edge, a sort of dirty,
stony beach, where we were
told to camp; we had covered
thirty to thirty-five miles in
the last nineteen hours, and
most of us had marched almost
the whole distance.

There was a small Arab
cafe which we were allowed to
use, but otherwise there was
no shade. Arabs sauntered
about our bivouac, and were
anything but friendly; the
place was filthy, and we were
far from feeling cheerful.

Some of the houses of the
town stand up on a rocky
crag above the river. Tekrit
is a very old place, and at one
time there was a bridge over
the river here. It was laid
waste by the Mongols and the
people butchered. Before we
left we were all wishing that
some such fate might be in
store for the present inhabit-
ants.

Some of us bathed, but the
water was very shallow and
dirty. Arabs could be seen

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

249

swimming across the river
supported on inflated skins, in
exactly the same way as
Xenophon has described their
forefathers doing two thousand
years ago.

That afternoon we tried to
arrange to hire extra animals,
as we felt that we could never
get along if the succeeding
marches were so severe. A
good many animals were forth-
coming, mostly mules and large
donkeys. The usual terms were
to be one pound in gold, paid
in advance, and a second on
arrival at Mosul. The follow-
ing evening, just before start-
ing, the owners demanded the
whole two pounds in advance ;
there was nothing for it but to
comply, the reason undoubtedly
being that the commandant of
the town and Elmey Bey both
desired to have their share
before starting, as otherwise
they would not see any of it.
A long delay ensued before we
got off, and it was getting dark
before we were clear of the
town.

The march that night was
uneventful, and we halted for
a few hours before dawn near
the river, continuing our way
as soon as it got light. We
passed a few Arab encamp-
ments formed of dark tents,
where the nomads come at
certain seasons to cultivate
the surrounding land, together
with their flocks of sheep and
goats. Not a single house, or
even mud-hut, was to be seen.
Our next halt, which we
reached in the middle of
the morning, was a serai
standing by itself alone on a

low ridge. It was built on
the usual square pattern, and
contained a well, which, how-
ever, was not of very much
use, as the water was unfit
for drinking; drinking water
had all to be carried from the
river, over a mile away.

Elmey Bey, or " Phil May,"
as we christened him, had by
this time shown how anxious
he was to help us by doing
nothing at all to assist us
either in buying provisions or
keeping prices down. Our
escort consisted of a few Arab
gendarmes, and on arrival at
any village .or encampment,
they would make the people
put up their prices, and in-
sist on taking the difference
as commission themselves ;
whenever they could manage
it they prevented all country
people from approaching us
until their own demands had
been satisfied.

Phil May rode the whole
way, and would hurry on and
be comfortably asleep in his
camp bed by the time we
reached the end of the march.
If worried sufficiently by the
senior officers, he would occa-
sionally go to the extent of
abusing one or more of the
gendarmes, and administer the
usual punishment adopted by
all officers in the Turkish
army viz., slapping the face
of the culprit. It says a
good deal for the discipline
of the Turkish soldier that
a sergeant will stand up like
a lamb and have his face
smacked by the veriest nin-
compoop of an officer.

Leaving the serai again the

250

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

following morning, we did a
short march of some six or
seven miles only, down to the
river. This was to be a very
strenuous day, for that even-
ing we were to start on the
long waterless march about
which we had heard so much.
It was said to be forty miles
that we should halt during the
next day, and not reach water
till the morning after, thus
doing two all-night marches.
Most people had bought goat-
skins, tied up to hold water,
from the local Arabs. Most
of them leaked more or less
rapidly, the new skins being
much the worst, and all gave
the water a very strong
flavour.

We got away about 5 P.M.,
and nothing special happened
till about 11 o'clock, when sud-
denly the escort became wildly
excited, and dashed up and
down ; we were halted and told
there were hostile Arabs about ;
the gendarmes fired off a few
shots into the air, but nothing
more occurred. All we could
find to account for the disturb-
ance was that one officer had
lost his donkey, which had got
loose and gone careering off to
the side of the road. As it
was a dark night this may
very likely have alarmed one
or two of the gendarmes, who
did not strike us as being men
of valour.

Two hours later we halted,
and, after a sketchy supper,
soon got to sleep. In the
morning, instead of remaining
where we were for the day, as
we had expected, we had to
move on once more to the tune

of "Yallah, yallah." After
three hours or so we reached
some low sand - hills, and
amongst these found an unex-
pected stream, where we pro-
ceeded to camp. This stream,
like so many more in this part
of the world, was not pure
water, but contained salts of
various descriptions, said by
the Turks to make the water
bad for drinking. We drank
steadily from this and other
similar streams, and luckily
for the most part felt no ill
effects.

That evening we were again
upon the road, our destination
being Shilgat, a small Turkish
post on the Tigris, which we
were meeting once more. We
arrived eventually about mid-
night after a very wearisome
march, and after a long wait
were herded into the courtyard
of the Turkish fort. When
the kit had been sorted out we
were very soon asleep, the
usual precautions being taken
to see that boots were hidden
under one's valise or tied
up in some way to prevent
theft. As the Turkish troops
were always badly off for foot-
gear, boots were the articles
most often stolen, and several
pairs had disappeared in this
way before we reached our
journey's end. All were thor-
oughly tired out, and it had
been decided that we would
insist on a rest the following
day: great was our wrath,
therefore, to find ourselves
awakened again at dawn, and
told we must move at once to
another place. Phil May came
in for more abuse, and lost his

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

251

temper promptly. We settled
down eventually in another
enclosure not far away, where
we had more room. Later on
we succeeded in our efforts to
get a whole day's rest.

In ancient times Shilgat was
Assur, the first capital of the
Assyrian Empire. Archaeolo-
gists had evidently been at
work here ; all the foundations
of the old city had been laid
bare; it had covered a con-
siderable area, and had been
built largely of marble. Situ-
ated on a high promontory
overlooking the Tigris and the
flat plains beyond, the old
town must have been an im-
posing sight from all the
surrounding country. Now
only the foundations remain,
and no carving or inscriptions
are to be seen.

Next day we were off once
more across flat, uninteresting
country, keeping close to the
river. At the start there was
considerable delay owing to
donkeys getting bogged in a
creek which we had to cross.
After a midday halt for a
couple of hours we continued
our weary way, and finally
bivouacked for the night on
the bank of the river.

The following day's march
proved one of the most un-
pleasant of the whole journey.
After an early start we soon
reached a Turkish post, where
a long delay occurred while
our orderlies drew rations. At
this place there were small
bitumen works, these being
the first signs of any modern
industry which we had seen
since leaving Bagdad. A little

farther on the track rose to
higher ground, and we left the
river away on our right. It
began to get hot towards mid-
day, and a warm wind got
up, bringing clouds of dust
to meet us. At length, in
the afternoon, we reached a
Turkish post, where after much
altercation we were refused an
entrance, and had to retrace
our steps to a somewhat sul-
phurous stream a little way
back, where we camped for
the night.

The country all round at
this time of year is covered
with long thin grass, and in
many places there are quan-
tities of wild flowers, scarlet
poppies being very conspicu-
ous.

In order to defeat the
gendarmes, we had by now
formed a kind of trade union
for buying eggs from villagers.
On approaching each place it
was decided how much should
be paid for eggs, these being
more in demand than any
other kind of food. In the
Bagdad district the Persian
" kron " is the usual unit : a
kron is equivalent to four-
pence or two Turkish piastres ;
farther north the piastre or
"qrush" is used. The cheapest
rate we obtained for eggs was
eight for a piastre, or four
a penny, whereas when the
gendarmes had their own
way we had to pay a penny
for each.

Our next march took us to
Hamamali, a place on the
river, and containing an old
bath, as its name implies.
There are bitumen springs

252

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

entering the river here, but
they are not strong enough
to render the water unfit
for drinking. Supplies were
very plentiful eggs, raisins,
bread, and dates being the
most sought after. After a
few hours' rest and a bathe
in the river we started off
again in the evening, looking
forward to a real rest on
reaching Mosul the next day.
We bivouacked beside the
road, and were moving at an
early hour next morning. The
road wound up and down over
low hills, and some attempt
had been made to metal the
surface and build good bridges,
showing that we were getting
near to an important place.
As we reached the top of
one ridge a full view of the
Tigris valley burst upon us,
Mosul lying straight ahead
of us, while farther to the
right across the river lay the
ruins of old Nineveh. In
the immediate foreground the
course of the river was marked
by green cultivated land and
low woods, while away in
the distance rose the dark
mountains of Kurdistan.

On approaching the town
more closely one noticed a
great difference, in the mosques
as compared with Bagdad.
Here the minarets were of
plain stone -work, and were
not capped by gorgeous golden
domes or brilliant blue tile-
work.

We were marched into a
large building formed on the
usual Turkish pattern of a
hollow square, This seemed
to be chiefly used as a prison.

We were given three or four
empty rooms on the upper
storey. Water was scarce,
and had to be brought in by
hand. In other respects the
building had all the filthy char-
acteristics inseparable from the
Turk.

Soon after arriving we were
given Bed Crescent post-cards
to send home, and these turned
out to be the first news our
friends in England received
from us. For food we were
allowed to go out to restau-
rants in the town. One of
these, run by a Frenchman,
was a great joy to us after
the scratch meals which we
had been forced to be content
with for so long. We had
covered the 175 miles from
Samarra to Mosul in just
under ten days, and had it
not been for the extra ani-
mals hired at Tekrit we should
scarcely have managed this.
As it was, most people could
ride for an hour and walk for
an hour alternately, though
some were not so fortunate.

We were promised many
things in Mosul, amongst others
that we should be allowed to
go to bathe in the river. This
was never allowed in the end,
although we went in parties to
the bazaar, where we laid in
stocks of flour, rice, and raisins
for the journey on to Kas-el-
Ain. We were told that very
few supplies were obtainable
on the road until we reached
Nisibin, 120 miles away.

At Samarra we had left be-
hind a few officers who had not
sufficiently recovered from the
effects of the siege to proceed

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

253

at onoe on the road journey.
At Shilgat we picked up one
officer left by the first party,
and left one or two of our own
servants behind. All these we
hoped would recover enough to
come on with the troops or
subsequent parties of officers.
At Mosul we found one of our
doctors left behind by the first
party, and attending to an
officer who was down with
enteric.

After a rest of two days at
Mosul we started off on June
1 for the 200 miles to the
railhead at Ras-el-Ain. Our
transport was now composed
chiefly of carts, and a few extra
carts were hired by paying in
advance as before. There was
the usual uncertainty as to
how many marches it would
take us, and how many hours we
should be on the road the first
day. We were now going al-
most due east, and would not
see our old friend the Tigris
again.

In response to our complaints
to the commandant at Mosul
of the way in which our Arab
escort had behaved, these men
were changed for Turkish sol-
diers, who gave us less trouble.
Our party was accompanied by
three magnificent Arab horses,
which were being taken to Con-
stantinople for Enver Pasha.
The Mosul district has been the
finest horse-breeding country
in Asia from the earliest times,
indeed it would be hard to
imagine a country better suited
for the purpose than the rolling
grassy plains stretching away
on both sides of the river.

After leaving the Tigris we

did not see a single tree for a
hundred miles, and there was
very little water of any descrip-
tion. The first night we spent
by some dirty pools after a
march of more than 20 miles.
The carts were not as restful
as might be imagined, since
they had no springs, and every
few minutes the Jehu would
urge his steeds into a canter to
catch up distance lost on the
cart in front, or merely to try
to get ahead of it. The har-
ness was largely composed of
string and rope, which often
gave way, thus occasioning a
long rattle for all on board
before the former place in the
procession was regained. Some
of the horses had most appal-
ling sores: they are evidently
worked till they drop, and re-
ceive the harshest treatment
from the drivers. The boys
driving our carts were Kurds,
wild, quick-tempered, and reck-
less.

The second day brought us
to a camp beside a stream of
pure sweet water, a welcome
change after all the dirty pools
and salt-laden springs which
we had experienced. The fol-
lowing day, after a halt near
some dirty springs at noon, we
started on another long water-
less trek in the late afternoon.
We went on steadily all night,
passing a large prairie fire:
these fires are started to burn
up the old long grass and make
way for the fresh growth.
They extend for miles, and at
night are a fine sight with
heavy clouds of smoke hanging
above.

We halted for two hours

254

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

about two in the morning and
then got under way onoe more.
About nine o'clock we came to
a good stream, and towards
midday reached our camp at
Demir Kapo. Here there was
a small river which yielded a
number of fish. We saw a few
Germans, and a German wire-
less section was camped near.
We bathed in the stream, and
were very glad to rest for the
remainder of the day and the
following morning.

Two more marches brought
us to Nisibin. The country
after leaving Mosul had been
almost uninhabited, but here
there were small villages dotted
about. On getting nearer to
them we found that they were
deserted; our guards told us
they were Armenian villages,
and that the people had all
been killed earlier in the war.
We passed a great many of
these awful testimonies to the
barbarity of Turkish politics.

Away on our right as we
approached Nisibin could be
seen Mardin, a city built on a
rock overlooking the plains,
and forming, as it were, a look-
out from the southern fringe
of the Taurus Mountains. As
to how far Mardin also was a
city of the dead it was impos-
sible to tell. Before the War
the main Armenian population
had extended from this district
over a belt of land running
north-eastwards up to Erze-
rum and Van.

At Nisibin we camped near
the river, and had a full day's
rest. This place saw as much
fighting as any spot in Meso-
potamia in the old days, having

been the frontier station be-
tween Borne and Parthia.
There are not many relics of
the past to be seen at the
present day, but close to our
bivouac stood four old pillars
bearing transverse stones which
had formed part of the Roman
Forum. They stood out for-
lornly in a field on high ground,
and, as might be expected, sup-
ported a stork's nest. These
birds often build a new nest on
the top of one or more old
ones ; they are very common in
Mesopotamia, and several were
seen in Bagdad.

The following evening saw
us moving on again, and the
day after we halted at midday
at Tel Erman. At this point
there is a road branching away
to the north of the route we had
followed and leading up to
Diarbekr. The Turks were
moving a good many troops at
this time up to the Caucasus
front through Diarbekr to meet
the Russian pressure. We
found a large camel convoy
just beyond the village ; since
leaving Mosul we had met no
troops or convoys destined for
Bagdad or the Persian front;
everything for Mesopotamia
appeared to go down the
Euphrates on rafts, this being
the quickest way.

Tel Erman lived in our
memories as being the first
place ?; where we had obtained
any fruit since leaving Bagdad
three weeks before. Some
small cherries and apricots
were to be had and were eager-
ly bought up.

During the evening's march
we passed a regiment of Turk-

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

255

ish cavalry, who for Turks
seemed to be wonderfully well
equipped. The average Turk
never looks happy on a horse,
but these fellows made a better
show than usual. As we ap-
proached the railhead at Bas-
el-Ain signs of activity in-
creased, and there were more
dead horses at the roadside,
showing that the traffic was
heavier.

The last day's march was
one of the worst; during the
morning stage the sun was
hot, there was no breeze, and
quantities of sand-flies assailed
us. Towards midday we
reached a big Turkish camp
where there were a good many
men and stores in course of
transit eastwards. Here we
rested until late in the after-
noon, when our final march to
Bas-el-Ain began. The last
few miles were accomplished
at a good pace to a sus-
tained whistling accompani-
ment, ranging over most of
the popular songs of the last
few years.

Every one thought that our
troubles were over, as we were
now on a railway, and what-
ever might happen would not
have to walk any farther.
These hopes were dispelled a
few days later, when we heard
of the two breaks in the line
across the Taurus Mountains,
which had not yet been com-
pleted, thus necessitating two
more trips by road.

We bivouacked in the open
by the station, and early in the
morning were told to get ready
at onee to go by the next train.
An hour later it appeared that

we were not going till the fol-
lowing day. By this time we
had ceased to pay much atten-
tion to Turkish orders, unless
we saw that actual prepar-
ations were being made to
carry them out* In the after-
noon the Turks took away all
Hindu orderlies and servants,
and informed us that all the
doctors in our party, except
one, were to stay here to look
after the Indian troops on their
arrival, as the latter were
going to be put to work on
continuing the railway farther
east towards Nisibin. We
were very sorry for our medi-
cal friends, since their pros-
pects looked anything but
cheerful. Local food supplies
from the country round seemed
almost non-existent, and the
shops in thef village had very
little.

By the time we reached Bas-
el-Ain we had completed 200
miles from Mosul in ten days.
Most of us had walked half
the distance, and bumped in
carts over the other half. We
had kept tolerably cheerful,
apart from a few inveterate
grousers; altogether we had
survived wonderfully well, and
had fared infinitely better than
the troops from Kut, who were
marching along in our tracks
a few days behind us.

From Bas-el-Ain we started
for Aleppo the next morning,
the journey taking nearly
twelve hours. The only in-
teresting place through which
we passed was Jerrablus, the
ancient Carchemish, where the
line crosses the Euphrates by
a fine bridge. There was not

256

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

much sign of activity on the
river banks, but before we left
the station a complete train
loaded with German motor-
lorries had arrived, and after
a few minutes continued its
way eastwards.

On reaching Aleppo in the
evening the orderlies and ser-
vants were marched off by
themselves, and after loading
our kit on to carts we were
driven away in gharries from
the station. This seemed to
be almost the height of luxury,
and we thought that at last
we had reached a place where
we should be really well
treated. The gharries took
as to various small hotels,
but when once inside we were
not allowed to go out again.
The Turks said that our
kit would be delivered at
once; some people waited up
hoping for the arrival of their
valises, but the wiser seized
what bedding there was ob-
tainable in the hotel, and
laying it on a verandah made
the best of a bad job, and
went to sleep.

In the morning we were not
allowed out to get any food.
The hotel sharks refused to
let boys come up with rolls,
but tried to sell to us them-
selves at double the prices.
However, we eventually got
hold of a boy who threw up
rolls from the street below to
our verandah, and thus out-
witted our enemies.

All efforts to get out for
breakfast or to fetch our kit
proved unavailing, until about
midday we were allowed to go
a few yards down the street to

where our kit had all been
thrown inside a gateway the
night before. Fortunately, al-
though a good many valises
had evidently been opened,
very little had been stolen.

It was not until four o'clock
in the afternoon that we were
finally allowed out in parties
to a restaurant not a hundred
yards away. While we were
shut in we had seen Phil May
in the road and shouted to
him, but although he could
see very well what we wanted,
he never took the trouble to
come into the hotel, much less
to help us.

The next day passed in much
the same fashion, except that
we were allowed out at mid-
day, and no one was sorry
when we were marched off
back to the station early the
following morning. Here we
met the orderlies, who had
fared much worse than we
had. The first night they had
been packed into a small room
in some filthy barracks, and
had suffered severely from the
verminous pests which flourish
in every Turkish building.

A railway journey of a few
hours brought us to Islahie,
which was then the railhead
for the journey over the Anti-
Taurus range.

There were some Austrian
troops in Aleppo, and we now
began to meet many more
Germans. Turkish training-
camps were much in evidence
at the stations we passed after
leaving Aleppo, and a good
deal of material was going
south on the railway. Most
of this was going to Egypt to

1918.]

From Kut to Rastamuni.

257

assist in the attack which
ended so disastrously for the
Turks.

We spent the night at
Islahie under some rough tent
shelters. All our clothes had
been fumigated in a steam
waggon specially designed for
the purpose.

The following morning we
noticed a crowd of men,
women, and children moving
off along the road and look-
ing very wretched. Our guards
said that these were Arme-
nians who had been working
ou the line, but were being
taken away to make room
for our troops, who would
be set to work in their place ;
they also added that these
Armenians would be marched
off into a waterless spot in
the hills, and kept there till
they died.

We left our camp in the
evening, travelling the first
part of the way in carts over
one of the most bumpy roads
ever seen. After a halt at the
foot of the pass we marched
up, starting at midnight.
There was a fine moon, and
the scenery as we climbed
higher became very grand.
The road appeared to be only
lately completed, and was
probably due to German en-
ergy. As we neared the
summit three or four bodies
were seen lying in the ditch
beside the road : these were
evidently some of the Arme-
nians we had seen starting
off that morning. After de-
scending the farther side we
bivouacked under trees in a
pretty spot, and on the slope
VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

opposite saw the Armenians.
Soon after they left, and we
did not see anything more of
them. That evening we con-
tinued our way downhill,
meeting several batches of
sturdy Turkish youths who
had just been called up and
were on their way to training
camps near Aleppo. We were
descending rapidly, and our
drivers maintained a headlong
gallop, with the result that
two carts were completely
overturned, but fortunately
with no ill effects to the
passengers. We finally biv-
ouacked not far from the
railhead, and reached the
station of Mamoure early the
following morning.

The railway journey across
the plain, through Adana,
took some six hours, bringing
us to Kulek Boghaz, a station
within five miles of Tarsus.
From this point the road jour-
ney over the main Taurus
range began. All supplies
were being brought over by
German motor - lorries, and
everything was being run by
a German commandant. Dur-
ing the night several helmets
were stolen, and probably found
their way to German soldiers,
who either had no sun helmets
or very inferior ones. The
commandant did his best to
recover them, but without suc-
cess. He told us that we
should leave the next morning
at 9 o'clock. Punctually to
the minute a dozen motor-
lorries rolled up, and we were
soon speeding along the road
towards the mountains. The
road had been cut up dread-
B

258

From Kut to Kastamuni.

[Feb.

fully by the heavy traffic, so
that we were jolted about
almost as badly as we had
been in the Turkish carts.
The scenery grew finer as we
ascended, until half-way we
reached an open space amongst
the hills, which the Germans
had made the headquarters of
their motor service, and chris-
tened "Camp Taurus." Here
were enormous repair tents,
one for each make of oar, with
living quarters and offices all
of a most complete and elabo-
rate type. After a halt here
we continued our way, still
rising slowly until we entered
the Cilioian Gates, where the
road just finds room to pass
through a narrow rocky gorge.
On the farther side the descent
begins at once, and is very
steep in places. The road here
was being repaired by bands
of forced labourers, and had a
much better surface.

As we neared the railway
again at Bozanti we noticed
a few British prisoners. These
were naval men taken in the
Dardanelles. They said they
were being paid, and appar-
ently had not much to com-
plain about. We were not
allowed to stop and speak to
them, and can only hope they
have fared better than our
own troops who were put to
work shortly afterwards on
the neighbouring sections of
the line through the Taurus.

At Bozanti we were able to
buy a few stores, some of which
were British and had been left
behind at Gallipoli when we
evacuated the peninsula. With
only a short wait we were

packed like sardines into a
train, and the next stage of
the journey began.

The next morning we reached
Konia, and were told to leave
the train, but not to take our
kit out, as the train was stop-
ping for some time. The lo-
cal commandant arrived, and
proved to be the best Turkish
officer we had met. Under his
direction we were taken to a
hospital building, where there
were two large rooms contain-
ing rough beds. These were a
great delight after sleeping on
the ground for weeks. The
commandant a little later de-
cided that we should be allowed
to remain here until the next
day, so that we might have a
rest. If we had relied on Phil
May our kit would have all
gone on in the afternoon to
Constantinople, but luckily we
just managed to rescue it in
time.

The greatest delight of
Konia, from our point of view,
was a hotel near the station,
to which we were allowed to
go for meals. This was run
by a Frenchwoman, who was
kindness itself, and could not
do enough for us. Few of us
will forget the delights of her
omelettes or the hot baths in
a real long bath, the first we
had seen since leaving India.

The journey next day was
more comfortable, as we had
more room. After spending
another night in the train,
we arrived in the morning at
Afiom Kara Hissar, where a
good number of Gallipoli pris-
oners were interned. In the
evening we reached Eski Che-

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamum.

259

hir, the junction for the Angora
line. Here all our Moham-
medan servants were taken
from us. We were conducted
a little way into the town to
the houses where a number of
Indian Mohammedan officers,
who had come along with the
first party, were living. They
seemed to have fared pretty
well, and certainly had very
good quarters. They were very
glad to see us, and we anxiously
inquired after their experiences
by the way.

Up to this point we had
fondly imagined that Angora
would be the end of our jour-
ney, but just before starting in
the evening we were told that
another ten days by road lay
in front of us after reaching
Angora. We were packed
tight in the train, and rumbled
on slowly through the night,
arriving at Angora at eleven
o'clock next day. Our kit was
left to be brought in carts,
while we were marched through
the town to a big building
over a mile beyond. This had
been built as an Agricultural
College, but latterly used as a
Military School. Here we
found the first party of officers,
whom we had last seen at
Shamran camp. They seemed
to have had a much more un-
pleasant journey than we had ;
whether it was because they
had most of the staff officers
amongst them, or had adopted
the plan of telling every Turk
and interpreter exactly what
they thought of them, certain
it is that they were not enjoy-
ing life, and when we arrived
had not been allowed outside

the building for two whole
days.

We had bidden farewell to
Phil May with great delight at
Eski Chehir, and had since
then been in charge of a much
pleasanter officer. Thanks to
his efforts, we succeeded in
getting permission to stay out
of doors to cook and to go
down to a neighbouring stream
to bathe in the evening. We
felt that the first party really
owed us a great debt of grati-
tude in thus providing them
with an opportunity of wash-
ing and getting a little fresh
air.

All our orderlies had been
marched off from the station
to some dirty Turkish barracks
so that we were entirely de-
pendent on our own culinary
efforts. Two days after our
arrival the first party left in
carts for Yozgad, a distance of
a hundred miles due east on
the road to Sivas and Erzerum.
We remained for a week, being
only allowed to go into the
town once to make purchases.

The journey to Kastamuni
began under the best condi-
tions. The weather was per-
fect, and as we were well over
2000 feet above sea -level the
sun was never too hot at mid-
day. Also we had a new com-
mandant, who did what he
could to help us. The distance
in front of us was 140 miles,
and we expected to take fully
a week.

The road led through count-
less orchards for the first few
miles, and then on into more
open country. Cherries and
small apricots abounded, and

260

From Kut to Kaatamuni.

[Feb.

supplies in general were plen-
tiful ; a very different state of
affairs existed a year later,
when prioes had doubled and
trebled, and in many oases ad-
vanced very muoh more. We
reaohed a small village the first
evening, and our commandant
appeared muoh surprised that
we should prefer to sleep in the
open rather than in the very
doubtful shelters attached to
the local rest-house.

The following day we reaohed
Kalejik, a picturesque little
place with the ruins of an old
castle perched on a rooky
pinnacle in the centre of the
town. Some such ruin seems
to keep watch over all Turkish
towns. We had already seen
similar old forts perched on
hills at Afiom Kara Hissar
and Angora.

Next morning most of our
carts were taken away, and
we were given donkeys in-
stead. A small moke cannot
keep pace with a cart, and it
is an open question whether
riding the animal with a load-
ing saddle is less fatiguing
than walking along and driv-
ing it in front of one. Pro-
vided all one's kit had been
put on a cart, the easiest way
was often to let the moke go
where it liked, and walk on
oneself without it.

Two days from Kalejik
brought us to Changri, a
prettily situated little place,
which came suddenly into view
as we rounded a bend in the
road, after traversing a very
desolate and uninteresting
stretch of country all day.
We bivouacked under some

trees by a stream, which, hew-
ever, was not fit to drink from.
The local commandant and
Town Council paid us a visit.
We were allowed to visit the
bazaar, and generally made
ourselves comfortable.

In the morning we were
given more carts again, muoh
to our delight, and continued
our way northward. The road
now began to cross some high
ridges. On one of these we
passed a police post, and a
halt was made while our com-
mandant stalked a few sitting
pigeons with his shot-gun,
eventually securing one after
a great deal of trouble. Be-
yond sand - grouse, between
Bagdad and Mosul we had
seen very little game of any
sort since we left Kut.

We camped by a stream
after a very steep and bumpy
descent from a high ridge. It
is extraordinary what treat-
ment the light Turkish trans-
port carts can stand without
anything giving way.

Our next march led us
up a very long ascent, and
proved the most enjoyable
day of our whole journey.
After ascending some dis-
tance the road entered pine
woods, and reminded us very
strongly of roads near different
hill stations in India. We
halted at midday very near
the top of the pass, which must
be close on 4000 feet, while the
mountains on either side rise
to another 2000 feet. The
views were glorious, and we
wished it might have been
possible to stay longer in such
scenery. By evening we had

1918.]

From Kut to Kastamuni.

261

dropped down a long distance
on the other side and were
nearly out of the woods again
when we halted for our last
bivouao.

We were now within ten
miles of Kastamuni, and by
eleven o'clock next morning,
July 5th, were in sight of the
place. The old castle standing
on its rooky crest was the first
sight which greeted us as we
looked down into the valley
from the top of the ridge along
which we had come. The
town, spreading up and down
the valley round the base of
the castle rock, seemed very
much larger than any Turkish
town we had seen since leaving
Aleppo. The valley was green
with cultivated fields and trees,
while the hillsides were bare
and brown.

We were halted just outside
the town while a number of
local gendarmes formed up on
each side of the road. After

a long wait we thus progressed
in state into the town and
through the bazaar to our
quarters, which proved to be
houses from which the former
Greek inhabitants had been
ejected. In the end, although
somewhat crowded, we found
ourselves each with a bed,
bedding, and a little other
furniture. Most of us had
not slept in a bed for eight
months or more, apart perhaps
from a few days in hospital,
and all we desired at the
moment was one long rest.

During the last week, which
had been by far the pleasant-
est of the whole trek, we had
averaged twenty miles a day.
Our journey altogether had
been nearly 1700 miles, and
was probably the longest dis-
tance across country any
prisoners of war have had to
travel to the place of their
confinement.

H. C. W. B.

262

[Feb.

OUTWARD BOUND.

" To the Master H.M.T. Saratoga.
" Being in all respects ready
for sea you will leave your
anchorage at 2.0 P.M. to-
day and proceed on your
vova ge * n execution of
Admiralty Sailing Orders,
dated ."

Thus read the heading of a
dozen paper-clipped typed in-
structions handed to Captain
Dash wood by the Senior Naval
Transport Officer.

"Please peruse same, cap-
tain/' said the S.N.T.O.

Captain Dashwood strode
across to the far end of the
office and settled down to
"peruse" in a comfortable
leather-backed chair in front
of a cheery crackling fire. He
looked over the pages carefully.
It was not a pleasant pamphlet
to contemplate indeed the
scare headlines of a Yankee
shocker would have faded to
insignificance before it.

He was warned of the
activity of hostile submarines,
the dangers of freely strewn
mines, the possibility of inter-
views from enemy raiders, and
the chances of barging into
lurking derelicts. He knew
much of this already, and the
cold, blue - typed statements
added no consolation. He gazed
into the fire reflectively : " And
over and above this lot," he
mused, " ships tear all over the
ocean at full speed without
lights and " a plaintive hooter

suddenly sounded from the
grey misty channel "fog, eh,
by Jove?" he said.

Captain Dashwood rose from
his chair and crossed the room.
" That's a very unattractive
yarn, sir," he said, returning
the papers.

"Yes, not much of a show is
it?" the N.T.O. replied as he
stuffed the orders into an en-
velope and applied a match to a
sealing-wax stick.

" Gun all right ? " he asked,
pressing down the official seal.
" Oh yes, sir," said the cap-
tain ; " I watch that she's our
best pal nowadays."

"Well, good-bye, captain,"
said the N.T.O., rising; "get
under way sharp on time good
luck!"

" Thank you, sir, good-
bye."

Captain Dashwood left the
Transport Office and called at
the Customs for his war clear-
ance. He pushed through the
swing-door of the long room
and nodded to the chief clerk
across the counter.

"You'll find all your papers
complete now, captain," said
the clerk, handing him a large
official envelope. "Cargo of
munitions, eh, I see?" he
added.

"Yes, from high explosives
down to bully-beef," the cap-
tain answered.

" Darned unlucky cargo, cap-
tain,'* commented the clerk
cheerfully; "the last ship we

1918.J

Outward Bound.

263

had with munitions was
torp "

" Excuse me, but I must be
off sailing in an hour or two ;
good-bye," the captain said
hurriedly.

" Good-bye, captain," said
the clerk, and as he dived
through the door the clerk
flung out a parting shot, " You'll
be all right if you're lucky,
captain ! "

Captain Dashwood made his
way through the slushy docks
and was pulled off to his ship
in a coaly waterman's boat.
After a scrambled meal, he got
into his hard-weather gear a
dilapidated uniform overcoat,
Wellington boots, and an old
felt hat and mounted the
bridge.

Being in all respects ready,
the anchor was hove up. The
telegraphed orders clanged in
the engine-room, the replies
jingled on the bridge, and the
Saratoga, gradually gathering
way, was off " Outward
Bound."

A low-lying cruiser lay at
anchor close to the harbour
entrance, and as the transport
swung round the bend towards
her a string of bunting flut-
tered up to her signal yard.

"Here, Chapman," said the
captain to the second oflioer
" signal from the man-of-war ;
look it up smartly."

As they drew closer they re-
cognised her. She had escorted
them safely into port three
weeks earlier with the last con-
voy of troop-ships. Captain
Dashwood fooussed his glasses
on to the cruiser. Her captain
was standing on the quarter-
deck with his fox-terrier in his
arms. He raised his cap and
waved as the Saratoga passed.

" * Safe voyage good luck ! '
is the signal, sir," called out the
second officer.

" All right ; run up Thanks '
quickly," said the captain.

Captain Dashwood waved
his old felt hat, and, simul-
taneously, several arms and
caps waved along the cruiser's
deck.

" Jolly nice of them, that is,"
remarked the captain as he
took a last glance round at the
little man-of-war. " They un-
derstand what we're up against
anyhow," he observed ; " dear
old things!"

The Saratoga left the snug
security of the harbour and
steamed out into a gloomy,
cheerless sea.

II.

The morning mists had mittently, rendered navigation
given place to passing squalls both arduous and anxious,
of snow, which drove before a Look-outs were doubled, and
biting easterly breeze. Fol- the muffled -up gun's crew
lowing his instructions, the exposed to the wintry blasts
captain groped his way along -strode to and fro at their
the shore as closely as possible, post, watchful and ready.
The driving snow completely In a little while a mine-
blotting out the land inter- sweeper hove in sight through

264

Outward Bound.

[Feb.

a squall. She blew a shrill
blast on her syren to attract
attention. Dusk was creeping
over the dismal ocean, and her
semaphore message was read
with difficulty.

"Keep a little farther off

shore mines off R Head,"

was twice signalled over.

"Cheerful sort of person
that," observed Captain Dash-
wood. " All right make
'Thanks,' Chapman," and he
promptly ordered the helms-
man to "Starboard two
points."

The captain's thoughts wan-
dered back instinctively to the
comfortable arm-chair and the
blazing fire in the Transport
Office. "Who wouldn't sell
a farm and go to sea, eh ? "
he mused.

Night closed down bitter,
dank, and desolate. They
were not in an enviable posi-
tion. The ship was making
13 knots to strike a mine
would mean disaster. To
strike it when half - loaded
with high explosives would
convert them instantaneously
into angels.

It was too dark to see the
land, but they passed the
mined area without ending
their earthly (or seafaring)
course ! They then stood
across an open stretch of
water, and, the snow having
ceased, the Saratoga was
headed for a narrow channel
between the mainland and a
eluster of outstanding rocky
dangers. At midnight a grate-
ful little " blinking - billy "
light showed up ahead, be-
yond which could be seen the
looming lights from some dis-

tant town. Captain Dash-
wood breathed a little more
freely, and, leaning against
the bridge telegraph, thor-
oughly enjoyed a steaming
mug of coffee. With his keen
eyes always n the alert, he
peered into darkness ahead.
The ship was now half-way
through the narrow passage.

Was it the strain that was
telling on his eyes, or was the
night, for some unaccountable
reason, growing darker ahead,
he wondered ? He pinched
himself to make sure that he
was quite awake. He was
perfectly conscious, yet some-
thing

The captain became sud-
denly rigid, the cup fell out of
his hand, clattered, and broke
at his feet. He yelled out
hoarsely " Hard a-port ! " and
stared wildly ahead as though
hypnotised. The second officer
rushed over to the helmsman
and saw the wheel swung over
correctly : had there been a
moment's hesitation, or the
helm moved the wrong way
the Saratoga would have
smashed into the steamer she
was overhauling. It was a
narrow call.

" Steady ! " shouted the cap-
tain "course again!" The
Saratoga swerved back on her
course, and almost grazed
alongside a huge lightless bulk
of a steamer, about the same
size as herself. They could
hear the wheeze of her engines
as they passed.

" Get a man to clear up the
' wreck ' about my feet, Chap-
man," remarked the captain
calmly. He leaned resignedly
over the bridge rail: "Can't

1918.]

Outward Bound.

265

say I fancy this lights out
game muoh ! " he muttered.

The passage was soon
cleared, and they steamed into
another stretoh of compara-
tively open water. The leaden,
overcast sky now showed signs
of thinning a little, at which
the captain sighed with relief.
Then he felt something touch
his arm, and turned round
with a start.

" That you, sir ? " said a voice
at his elbow.

"Yes what is it?"

"Vivian, sir ... just got
the warnings, . . . there's a
derelict reported, and three or
four submarines."

"Oh, all right, Sparks-
thank you/' said the captain,
taking the maroonigram from
him. "Keep a constant * list-
en-in' now, you know."

"Aye, aye, sir, I'm there all
the time," said the operator,
who forthwith slipped down
the ladder and returned to his
house of mystery.

"Keep your eyes skinned,
Chapman," warned the cap-
tain; "don't let them up from
ahead there for a second."

He glanced into the binnacle
and, satisfied that the course
was correct, he slipped into the
chart-house. He read over the
wireless warnings anxiously.

" Derelict schooner danger-
ous to navigation, reported
3 P.M., eight miles S.S.W. off

P Lightship." He laid the

parallel rulers to the bearing
on the chart and pricked off
the distance. Hound the spot
he pencilled a small circle, and
labelled it "D." "Pretty rot-
ten, that," he said to himself;
"we'll be exactly over that

dashed place on our next
course, . . . still," he re-
flected, "the tide must have
pushed it about some in twelve
hours. ... I think we can
count that feller 'out.'"

He ticked it off. "Now for
the submarine swine," he said.

He marked each one off with
an "X," and they made an
awkward-looking gauntlet to
be run through. "And these
are only the reported ones," he
soliloquised. "No doubt more
of the blighters are dodging
about."

There was a knock at the
chart-house door. The captain
switched off the light and
called out: "All clear come
in!" The wireless operator
popped into the room and
closed the door after him.

" What's up now ? " the cap-
tain asked, turning on the light
again.

"Signal of distress, sir,"
said Sparks breathlessly ;
". . . steamer Fairholm mak-
ing 'S.O.S.' . . . struck a
mine ! "

The captain quickly read the
pathetic appeal " Mined 4

miles S.E. of E Head,

sinkiog fast."

" Whew ! " he ej aoulated.
"The poor beggars, . . . hard
luck."

He plotted the position on
the chart. "Good Lord,
Sparks," he said pensively, as
he laid the dividers against the
scale, " we passed a quarter of
a mile outside the perishing
spot!"

They went out on to the
bridge. " All right ; carry on,
Sparks," he said, and peered
again into the darkness.

266

Outward Bound.

[Feb.

IIL

"Looks like a flash-light
showing up a point on the
starboard bow, sir/' the second
officer reported a little while
later.

"Ah, that's P Light-
ship, then," the captain re-
plied. "Put it right ahead,
. . . port ten degrees, there."

"Port ten degrees, sir," an-
swered the muffled-up figure at
the wheel, whose face gleamed
eerily in the diffused light from
the binnacle.

Another lightless steamer
loomed shortly to the south-
ward, going on an opposite
course, and vanished again
into the night.

The Saratoga forged ahead
at high speed and soon rounded
the Lightship. A feeble eight
bells (4 A.M.) struck, followed
by the plaintive drone from
the look-out man in the crow's
nest "Orlls We-11!" Cap-
tain Dashwood stretched him-
self and yawned. "More by
good luck than anything else,
I reckon, me lad," he mumbled
to himself.

The man at the wheel greeted
his relief urbanely, called out
the course, and mumbled some-
thing about "'er carrying
three spokes of starboard
helium."

" S. 86 W., sir," he informed
the officer of the watch.

"Aye, aye, S. 86 W.," was
the reply.

Another wrapped -up figure
crossed the bridge and reported
" Wilkinson on the look-out,
sir."

"Aye, aye," the Seoend an-
swered.

Nelson, the chief officer, then
appeared on the scene. He
and the Second conversed in
undertones under the weather
bridge dodger. He took over
the responsibilities of watch
keeper, and Chapman disap-
peared below to write up the
log.

"Good morning, sir," said
the Second, as he descended
the ladder.

"Morning, Chapman," said
the captain wearily.

The chief looked into the
compass, sniffed the morning air,
and walked over to the captain.

"Good morning, sir," he
said; "so far so good, eh?"

" Yes, it's a bit of a beggar,
though, . . . there's a blasted
derelict of a schooner just about
here, . . . hope we don't push
into the darned thing," said
the captain. The chief peered
through his glasses. " The
land's showing up fairly dis-
tinctly now, sir," he said.

"M'yes; . . . how's that
light bearing, Nelson?"

The chief swung the bin-
nacle top round, and gazed
over it towards the flashing
light. "North-east, sir."

" Bight, thanks, . . . port
thirty degrees, ... we must
coast in and out of the bays."

The helm was swung over,
and the Saratoga headed in
towards the land. They skirted
a mile or two off shore, passed
the twinkling lights of a small
fishing village, and swept round

1918.]

Outward Bound.

267

in the dark smooth water of
the bay.

" Keep a sharp look - out,
Nelson," said the captain.
" I'll just slip inside and see
what the next bay looks like."
He stepped into the chart-
house and examined the chart
closely, running the dividers
carefully over the soundings.
He was just pricking off the
distance when the chief officer
banged violently at the door
and yelled out excitedly :
"Come out here, sir, quick!"
The captain doused the light
and tumbled out on to the
bridge. The chief simultane-
ously telegraphed the alarm
signal to the gun's crew, and
shouted sharply: "Starboard
side, there, sir!"

The captain rushed across
the bridge and instinctively
grasped the binocular glasses
dangling round his neck.

"Hard a - starboard !" he
roared. He stared immovable
over the side at a long dark
vessel, flat fore and aft save
for a protruding hump in its
middle. It lay parallel to the
ship's track, and only fifteen
feet away from her side. The
Saratoga swung rapidly round
on her helm. . . .

"Stand by!" shouted the
captain to the chief officer,
whose hand was ready on the
telegraph lever to give the
signal to open fire instantly.

The captain held his breath
and clenched his teeth, a ter-
rific explosion being moment-
arily expected. The Saratoga's
starboard propeller missed the
ominous craft by a foot as
she swerved round, and the

unwelcome stranger suddenly
vanished in the gloom.

" Hard a-port, now ! " ordered
the captain. "We'll zigzag
two or three times, Nelson,
and fool the blighter. . .
Never mind the telegraph,"
he said. "Send for tke lead-
ing gunner."

In a few moments the man
appeared on the bridge.

" Did you see that long black
thing we've just passed ? "
asked the captain.

"Yessir," replied the nug-
gety Fleet Reserve man ; " 'ad
the gun loaded and trained on
the objeo' before the telegraph
'ad stopped a-ringing, sir."

" What was it ? " the captain
queried.

"Well, in the darkness it's
'ard to say exac'ly, sir," said
the little man, scratching his
head, "but it looked mighty
like an 'Un U-boat, sir."

"H'm. ... I thought so
too," said the captain reflec-
tively. "Might have been a
patrol, though, or a deeply
laden collier. . . . Dashed
awkward ! "

"'Tweren't no collier, sir,"
the gunner asserted.

"All right; stand by again,
Corking," said the captain.
"Look out for dawn. . . .
We can't do anything now."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the
gunner, and left the bridge.

" Jolly knotty problem that,"
mused the captain as he
dragged a tobacco pouch out
of his pocket and proceeded
to fill his pipe.

"Must have been a sub-
marine, sir," suggested the
chief officer.

268

Outward Bound.

[Feb.

"Then I reckon we upset off at the darned thing and

his morale and gave him the argued about it afterwards,"

shook of his sneaky life," an- he added meditatively; "but

swered the captain grimly, it was a bit on the sudden

" Perhaps I should have buzzed side for me."

IV.

The Saratoga continued her
way along the shore during
the remaining hours of dark-
ness. Gradually the eastern
sky paled and brightened, the
pall of night broke up into
clumps of rolling cumulus
clouds, and the sun, peeping
over the horizon, shed its ray
upon the bluey-grey undulating
coast-line.

Homeward bound, outward
bound, and crossing vessels
now showed up in all direc-
tions, zigzagging along their
various ways.

" It's a bit uncanny ! " re-
marked the captain. " I
wonder how many vessels we
pass at night without seeing,
eh?" He fooussed his glasses
on a great ocean liner "tack-
ing" over towards them.

" Keep her jigging all the
time, Nelson. I must sit down
for a spell, or I'll be developing
varicose veins ! " he said with a
wan smile.

Daylight had revealed the
captain's face, flushed and
pinched with the cold. His
unshaven chin showed blue
and grubby against his white
cashmere muffler, and his eyes
were bloodshot and heavy.

The ship was zigzagged
monotonously throughout the
morning now heading in close
up to the surging breakers, now

standing out seawards, swing-
ing to and fro, backwards and
forwards, at short irregular
intervals.

By noon the position had
been reached from which, ac-
cording to route instructions,
the vessel was to leave the
friendly protection of the shore
and steer for the open sea. The
air was clear and crisp, and the
sun shone brightly across the
gently heaving sparkling ocean
ideal conditions for pirates'
work.

Captain Dash wood, there-
fore, adopted the policy that it
was better to be sure than sorry.

"Hard a-port ! " he shouted
to the helmsman. The ship
swung round to an opposite
course. " Dodge along back
on our track again to Cape

J ever there," he said,

indicating the point to the
officer of the watch. "We'll
have a sporting chance of
being picked up here, any-
how, should we get pipped,"
he observed.

After zigzagging about half-
way over the old ground, a
patrol-boat suddenly hove in
sight close round the cape,
and stood across the bay to-
wards them.

"The usual signal's flying,
sir," said Chapman with a
telescope to his eye.

1918.

Outward Bound.

269

"All right ; hoist our number,
then," said the captain.

The little armed oraft
skimmed over the heaving
swell, her tiny white ensign
black now from funnel-
smoke fluttering proudly
from her clothes -prop of a
mast.

As she drew up, a man
waved a couple of flags from
her gimorack bridge, and in-
quired the ports of departure
and destination of the trans-
port.

This was duly replied to by
semaphore.

The patrol-boat then edged
closely alongside, and a raucous-
voiced person on the bridge
shouted out authoritatively
through a megaphone "Why
are you heading East ? "

The Saratoga, heading to-
wards her port of departure,
no doubt perplexed the sea-
policeman.

Captain Dashwood smiled

oddly and wondered if he was
breaking any rules of sea
warfare.

"Give me the megaphone,
Chapman," he said. He then
bawled out with equal dignity
" Waiting for dark ! "

The patrol -boat men then
seemed to hold a sort of council
of war, and in a few minutes a
voice bellowed out in a sten-
torian tone " Carry on ! "

She then darted off to inter-
view another drunken-looking
zigzagger.

The Saratoga swung round
once more near the headland,
steamed back to her "shove
off" position, and broke away
at top speed to the S.W. in
the rapidly waning day. She
rolled to the increasing swell
a heaving lightless ship and,
beyond arousing the protests
of a fleet of fishing drifters to
the height of discordant syren
wails, she came through the
night unmolested.

V.

With approaching day zig-
zagging became more strenu-
ous. Captain Dashwood stood
at his post and repeatedly
raised his glasses to his tired
eyes, automatically scanning
the horizon circle.

"Keep a very sharp look-
out all round," he instructed
the officer of the watch. " I'll
be handy in here," he said, and
stepped into the chart-house.

The long vigil was telling.
He examined the chart for the
hundredth time.

" Well, that's two submarine

positions passed over, anyhow,"
he muttered to himself. " Not
through the wood yet, though,"
he added, as he regarded the
other marked crosses appre-
hensively.

He lay back on the settee
overcome with weariness, and
promptly dreamt that he
heard some one calling out
excitedly. He started to his
feet and rubbed his eyes.
"Have a look here, sir," he
fancied he heard. Was he
imagining things ? The voice
was familiar, but it sounded a

270

Outward Bound.

[Feb.

long way off. Instinctively he
rushed outside.

"In the water there, sir,
nearly abeam ! " shouted the
third officer, directing his
dazed look.

Sticking bolt upright, about
two feet above the surface, was
a black thing like the top of a
small galley funnel.

" Hard a-starboard ! " roared
the captain, at the same
time feverishly swinging the
alarm telegraph handle to and
fro. The gun's crew "closed
up" with alacrity and in-
stantly covered the ominous-
looking object with their
weapon.

The captain pressed his
glasses to his eyes and anxi-
ously followed the dark sinister
thing as the ship swung round
and brought it astern. His
tense expression then relaxed
into a relieved smile.

" Don't do it again, Walters,"
he said, rebuking the watch
officer good-humouredly. " Your
what-you-may-oall-it affair is
the truck of a floating mast ! "

" I'm sorry, sir," the third
officer replied. " But I could
have sworn it was a "

" Yes, I understand, Walters
you never know these times,"
observed the captain.

That was but the first of
many false alarms.

The Saratoga zigzagged
throughout the whole day
among a flotsam-strewn ocean,
comprising casks and cases,
hatch-gratings and spars, deck-
houses and water-logged boats,
bearing at once pathetic and
stern testimony to the wanton
ruthlessness, and close prox-
imity, of undersea pirates.

The few steamers sighted were
systematically given a wide
berth. They were, no doubt,
friendly, but this was no time
for idle curiosity.

After the strain of his con-
tinuous thirty hours' anxieties
on "Mount Misery," Captain
Dash wood fairly revelled "All
standing " in a " stretch off
the land " on his cabin settee,
and enjoyed intermittent dozes
during the night.

Dawn broke wet and cheer-
less.

The captain turned over
under his cosy rugs and was
soothed to complacency by the
drip drip of pattering rain on
the deck overhead, and the
sound of gurgling water from
the scupper pipes. But his
peace of mind was soon dis-
turbed by a visit from the
fagged -looking wireless oper-
ator.

"What's up, Sparks," he
asked, sitting up and taking
the maroonigram held out to
him.

"Just received this, sir no
source given," said Sparks.

The captain hastily read the
warning.

" Why, what the deuce "

he seemed a little puzzled.

The operator indicated a
portion of the message. " That's
the Raider warning sign, isn't
it, sir?" he said.

" The dickens it is, Sparks,"
the captain replied. "Lati-
tude , longitude , steer-
ing N".W.," he said, reading
aloud. " Reported yesterday
afternoon, eh?"

"Yes, sir," said Sparks.

"All right; thanks. Keep
keen on the job yet," the cap-

1918.]

Outward Bound.

271

tain said, vainly endeavouring
to stifle a yawn.

The operator returned to his
listening-in, and the oaptain
hurriedly slipped on his gum-
boots and rain gear and went
up on to the bridge.

"Morning, sir," said the chief
officer.

"Morning, Nelson; anything
in sight ? "

" Nothing, except vast quan-
tities of salt and fresh water,
sir!" replied the chief, pulling
down the brim of his dripping
sou'-wester.

" Suitable conditions for our
game, though," said the oaptain
as he stepped into the chart-
house.

He picked off the position of

the new danger and marked a
large "R" on the ohart.l He
quickly calculated where his
ship was at that moment and
looked rather perturbed. He
went out into the rain.

" Darned enemy raider here-
abouts yesterday afternoon,"
he remarked.

"Awkward coons to meet,
sir," suggested the chief officer.

" H'm, yes," mused the cap-
tain. "Still, the ocean is a
mighty big place, Nelson, and
it's one chance to a hundred
that we'll fall foul of him. Call
me if you see any smoke at
all." With which the oaptain
left the dismal dampness of
the bridge for the cosy comfort
of his settee.

VI.

Then followed a succession of
grateful days and undisturbed
nights of eternal sea and sky.
Wireless warnings came in all
the time, but Captain Dash wood
consoled himself by clinging to
his "Ocean is a darned big
place" philosophy. Still, he
welcomed the hours of darkness
when the Saratoga steamed
boldly through starry tropical
nights, a black and lightless
shape. A shrill whistle from
the speaking-tube over his head
disturbed the captain's siesta
one afternoon. He unhooked
the noisy thing listlessly.

" Well ? " he drawled sleepily.

"Steamer's smoke on port
beam apparently going the
same way as us, sir," said the
second officer.

"All right," the oaptain re-
plied ; " keep your eye on her."

The oaptain could see the
trailing smoke through his open
scuttle. "A friend, maybe,"
he reflected, " but I prefer be-
ing unsociable nowadays."

By sundowu the steamer had
drawn ahead a point.

" We ought to lose her dur-
ing the night," suggested the
chief officer, taking a final
compass bearing of the smoke.

The captain was preparing
to turn in that night when a
startling shrill sounded on his
whistle.

"Yes, what is it?" he
asked.

"I can't make it out, sir,
. . . that steamer's well in
sight heading across our bows,"
said the third officer with some
concern.

The oaptain dropped the
tube, snatched up his glasses,

272

Outward Bound.

[Feb.

and tore up on to the bridge.
It was quite true. What did
it mean? The steamer, show-
ing no lights, was plainly
visible in the darkness.

" Suspicions manoeuvre

that," commented the oaptain.
" Here ! " he ordered suddenly.
" Hard a - port ! . . . I'm
not taking any chances like
that."

It was doldrum weather,
and as the ship swung round
on her helm, she steamed slap
into a heavy rain-squall work-
ing up from the N.E.

" That's providential good
luck ! " observed the captain,
as he peered over the dodger,

and spat away the rain drips
streaming down his cheeks to
his mouth.

He zigzagged his ship once
or twice, and then shot round
in a new direction, taking
every advantage of conceal-
ment in the thick misty rain.
Point by point the Saratoga
was gradually brought back to
her course again, and effect-
ually escaped the stranger's
mysterious attentions.

"Good night, Walters," said
the captain, descending the
bridge ladder, "keep your eyes
skinned."

"Aye, aye, sir, . . . good
night,"

VII.

After various vicissitudes
the Saratoga reached her first
port unscathed, and discharged
her supply of munitions for one
of the far-flung theatres of war.
A hospital ship turned up un-
expectedly at that port soon
afterwards with a miscella-
neous contingent of battle-
scarred warriors. A hundred
of these men were transferred
to the Saratoga, which in due
course conveyed them to the
land of their fathers at the
very outposts of our glorious
empire.

On a peaceful sunny morn-
ing the transport steamed into
the beautiful harbour, with her
pathetic freight of sick and
wounded. She ranged along-
side her berth to the accom-
paniment of shrill toot-
ing whistles and cheering
crowds. Handkerchiefs flut-
tered distraotingly many

were raised to tear- bedinrted
eyes.

The convalescents lined the
Saratoga's rails, and cheered in
their excited abandon.

"'Ullo, mother!" shouted a
bronzed-faced trooper with his
arm in a sling ; " 'Ullo, there 1 "

"'Ullo, Alf! . . . welcome
'ome, lad," came faintly from
the crowd.

"There 'e is, Cissy! . . .
Bill! Bill! . . . 'ere we are!"
cried out a slashing - looking
flapper.

"Aye! Florrie! ... I'm
O.K. now, . . . told yer I'd
get back to yer some day ! "
exclaimed a much-bandaged- up
head in the rigging.

"That's my girlie and the
kids standing against the post
there, sir," yelled a sergeant,
radiant with happiness, to the
oaptain up on the bridge.

"You're a fortunate man,

1918.]

Outward Bound.

273

sergeant," said the captain
with a smile. "You deserve
it all, m'lad, . . . good luok
to you."

" Good-bye, sir, if I don't see
you again," said the sergeant.
" And thanks for all your kind-
ness to the boys."

"Tut, tut!" said the cap-
tain, swallowing a lump in
his throat.

Crutches waved over the
side; gaunt, pale-faced, khaki-
clad youths tried to wave;
. . . women waved, women
wept, . . . men wept. It was
a scene of pathetic happi-
ness. . , .

*>

Captain Dashwood shifted
into mufti and strolled up the
gay, bustling streets. He re-
ported his arrival to his owners,
and fixed up certain business
with the military authorities
in connection with his next
reinforcement of troops and
food cargo for England. He
then wended his way to the
General Post Office to tele-
graph some comforting words

to his wife. On going up the
steps he ran into a sportingly-
attired chap who seemed to be
in a great hurry.

"Hello, captain!" he said
breathlessly " back again ? "

"Yes," said the captain sim-
ply. He knew the fellow but
casually.

"You're lookin' well!" re-
marked the person with the
field - glasses slung over his
shoulder.

"Yes, I'm feeling very well,
thank you," was the curt
reply.

"'Souse me, but I'm in an
'ell of a rush, old man, . . .
off to the races, . . . see you
again ! " he flung out as he
leapt down the steps.

He jumped into a taxi, and
waved back out of the window :
"Ta, ta!" he shouted. Cap-
tain Dashwood gazed glumly
at the taxi as it disappeared
round the corner. "It's hard
to believe," he mused, "that
there are still some people in
the world who don't yet know
there's a war on!"

-

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXVIII.

274 [Feb

A HYMN OF DISGUST.

You wrote a pretty hymn of Hate

That wen the Kaiser's praise,

Which showed your nasty mental state,

And made us laugh for days.

I oan't compete with such as you

In doggerel of mine,

But this is certain and it's true,

You bloody-handed swine

We do not mouth a song of hate, or talk about you much,
We do not mention things like you it wouldn't be polite ;
One doesn't talk in drawing-rooms of Prussian dirt and such,
We only want to kill you off so roll along and fight.

For men like you with filthy minds, you leave a nasty taste,
We oan't forget your triumphs with the girls you met in France.
By your standards of morality, gorillas would be chaste,
And you consummate your triumphs with the bayonet and the
lance.

You give us mental pictures ef your officers at play,

With naked girls a-danoing on the table as you dine,

With their mothers out to pieces, in the knightly German way,

In the corners of the guard-room in a pool of blood and wine.

You had better stay in Germany, and never go abroad,
For wherever you may wander you will find your fame has gone,
For you are outcasts from the lists, with rust upon your sword
The blood of many innocents of children newly born.

You are bestial men and beastly, and we would not ask you

home
To meet our wives and daughters, for we doubt that you are

clean ;

You will find your fame in front of you wherever you may roam,
You who came through burning Belgium with the ladies for a

screen.

1918.] A Hymn of Disgust. 275

You who love to hear the screaming of a girl beneath the knife,
In the midst of your oompanions, with their craning, eager necks ;
When you crown your German mercy, and you take a sobbing

life
You are not exactly gentlemen towards the gentle sex.

With your rapings in the market-place, and slaughter of the

weak,
With your gross and leering conduct, and your utter lack o

shame,

When we note in all your doings such a nasty yellow streak,
You show surprise at our disgust, and say you're not to blame.

We don't want any whinings, and we'd sooner wait for peace
Till you've realised your position, and you know you whine in

vain;

And you stand within a circle of the Cleaner World's Police,
And we goad you into charging and we clean the world again

For you should know that never shall you meet us as before,
That none will take you by the hand or greet you as a friend ;
So stay with it, and finish it who brought about the War
And when you've paid for all you've done well, that will be
the End.

KLAXON.

276

[Feb.

MUSINGS WITHOUT MBTHOD.

VOTES FOR WOMEN WHAT DOES " UNANIMITY " MEAN ? THE
POLICY OF THE BLACK HAND THE LABOUR PARTY AND CON-
FISCATION THE NEW PATRON OF THE ARTS MR HENDERSON'S

WAR AIMS THE BRITISH WORKERS* LEAGUE A NEW STANDARD
OF POLITICS.

WHEN William Pitt was
confronted by the menace of
Napoleon, certain zealots, with
Grey at their head, began to
clamour for universal suffrage
and annual parliaments. No
moment could have been worse
chosen for foolish experiments
in political doctrine. England
was threatened with invasion
and extinction. The rebels in
Manchester and in Edinburgh,
in all the great cities of Britain,
were in treasonable communi-
cation with Britain's enemies,
and Pitt adopted the only plan
possible for a patriotic Minis-
ter : he refused to be diverted
from the effective prosecution
of the war. He was no enemy
of reform, but he knew well
that the time was inopportune
for experiment. "I would
rather forgo for ever the
advantages of reform," said
he, "than risk for a moment
the existence of the British
Constitution."

Our present rulers are less
wisely inspired than was
William Pitt. We stand in
greater danger than ever we
did in the long course of our
history, and the Government
has chosen this hazardous hour
to push through a measure
which a statesman, who feared

to vote against it, rightly called
"catastrophic." So far as we
know, there was no reason
whatever at this crisis to break
in pieces the British Constitu-
tion. If pressure was put upon
our Government, it came from
a small section, which might
have been firmly faced and
easily subdued. That the
measure was passed to give
votes to the sailors and soldiers
is a monstrous pretence, since
the vote was saved for the
sailors and soldiers, while the
Bill was in passage, only by
a resolute minority. Equally
erroneous is it to assert that
the Bill is the result of a
unanimous decision made by
the Speaker's Conference. In
the first place, that decision
was not unanimous ; in the
second, the Bill, as it has been
passed, does not embody all the
recommendations of the Con-
ference. Even if the Bill were
innocuous, there is every reason
why it should not be passed
now. The House of Commons,
which has continued its exist-
ence by its own vote, has no
other business than to carry on
the War. Legislation is no
part of its duty. If representa-
tive government has any mean-
ing at all, then the present

1918.]

What does " Unanimity " mean ?

277

Parliament should refrain re-
solutely from changing the
laws or the Constitution of the
realm. What becomes of the
"mandate," about which we
heard so much a few years
since? What mandate can be
claimed by a House of Com-
mons which expired in 1915,
and which is kept in a state of
suspended animation by its own
will?

Nor in these days of stress
can the Franchise Bill have
received the stern criticism to
which it should have been ex-
posed. Justice requires that
it should not have been passed
before it had been duly sub-
mitted to the country at a
General Election. It was
pushed through the House of
Commons as a piece of the
"party truce" with little op-
position. But many members,
as we all know, abstained from
opposition because they were
exhorted in this time of war
to raise no controversy. There's
irony for you ! A highly con-
troversial measure is introduced
in defiance of the truce, and
members of Parliament, fiercely
opposed to it, are persuaded
to support it, lest the truce,
already defied, should be in
peril! And those responsible
for our undoing have not made
up their wavering minds even
about the truce. In the House
of Commons the truce covers
every defection from loyalty
and justice. In the House of
Lords, Lord Curzon tells us
that the truce no longer exists,
that it died a natural death
with Mr Asquith's coalition.

But dead or moribund, it has
served to ensure an ultimate
revolution, and no doubt it is
justified in the eyes of our
demagogues.

When he put in a special
plea for Women's Suffrage,
Lord Selborne adduced another
argument in favour of the
measure. " Some evidence,"
said he, "had already been
put before the House as to
the desire in the country for
this change. Had there been
the faintest indication of pro-
test in the country as a whole ?
Never in the whole course of
his political experience had a
measure been stamped with
such unanimous national ap-
proval." What Lord Selborne
means by this we do not know.
There has been no open protest
in the country, because the
country, more loyal than the
politicians, has believed that
the party truce is still worthy
of respect, and that in time of
war political protests are in-
opportune. If the politicians
had recognised and reverenced
the loyalty of the country, they
would have deserved better of
their compatriots. But when
Lord Selborne talks loudly
of "unanimous national ap-
proval," he surely must have
forgotten the plain meaning of
words. Whether the nation
approves or not nobody knows,
because the nation has not been
consulted. That the Govern-
ment itself is not unanimous
is very clear. The Lord Chan-
cellor himself spoke wisely and
vigorously against the vote for
women. Lord Peel, to whose

278

Musings without Method.

[Feb.

charge the conduct of the Bill
in the House of Lords was
committed, did not east a vote
either way surely an episode
which cannot be matched in
the "political experience" of
Lord Selborne or of anybody
else. And lastly, to overtop
this comedy of contradictions,
Lord Curzon, having delivered
a closely -reasoned, unanswer-
able attack upon the Bill, did
not raise a finger to hinder
its passage. He spoke with
justice about "a vast, incalcul-
able, and catastrophic change."
He said that " they were open-
ing the flood-gates to some-
thing much more than a tidal
river they would be opening
them to a flood which they
could not stop, which might
presently overspread this coun-
try and submerge many land-
marks." And having said
this, he went away without
stirring a finger to stay the
flood.

"Pourquoi suit on la plu-
ralite? Est-ce a cause qu'ils
ont plus de raison. Non, mais
plus de force." These wise
words of Pascal explain all the
processes of modern democracy.
The Government, doing lip-
service to the reason of the
majority, fears its strength.
And so democracy has become
a kind of blackmail. We were
told, in the course of the de-
bate, that any opposition to
votes for women would split
the country from top to bottom,
that the politicians would not
be responsible for what hap-
pened, and much more to the
same purpose. This is the lan-

guage not of statesmen but of
the Black Hand. And it is
always in such terms as these
that our democrats express
themselves. The rules of Par-
liament are laughed to scorn.
No longer do we hear modest
appeals, addressed to the mem-
bers of either House, to vote
for this measure or that on
its merits. No longer is it
justly understood that it is
still within the competence of
the Lords to suspend a Bill
which has passed the Com-
mons. "Agree to this, or
take the consequences" that
is the latest tone of our de-
bates, and it suggests the
threat of the miscreant who
declares that if you don't put
twenty pounds upon a certain
stone by Monday next at twelve
o'clock it will be the worse for
you. It is humiliating that
the vaunted " Mother of Parlia-
ments " should listen tamely to
such arguments. It warns us
also that our politicians are con-
niving at revolution, which is
the proper sequel of surrender.
Certain members of the
Labour Party, for instance, are
already boasting what they
will do when they have
achieved the revolution, which
they believe is prepared by the
new Reform Bill. They will
emulate Kerensky, they tell us,
and will avoid his mistakes.
How they propose to avoid his
mistakes they do not explain,
and not one of them has the
sense or the strength to ride
the storm of revolt. Revolu-
tions have taken the same
course of anarchy and plunder

1918.]

The Labour Party and Confiscation.

279

wherever they have shown
themselves, and no man of the
Labour party has ever proved
the possession of that genius
for governance which would
give the lie to the whole his-
tory of the world. The Labour
party has before its eyes the
example of Russia, where the
revolution "converted itself
into what, so long as it lasted,
was hopeless ruin for every-
body that is to say, into a
rebellion against all controlling
persona." Mr Mallock in his
book, 'The Limits of Pure
Democracy ' (London : Chap-
man & Hall), cites some ex-
amples of the folly and cupidity
of the Russian revolutionaries
which should not be without
their influence upon our own
vague-headed dreamers, who,
until Lenin and Trotsky came
along, believed Kerensky to be
the greatest of mortal men.
The first ambition of the Rus-
sian peasants, we are told, was
to peg out as many acres as
each one of them could seize,
without thinking whether they
could till them, or whether,
if they tilled them, they could
use the produce. In one
village, says a writer quoted
by Mr Mallook, the peasants
were "busy in distributing the
estate of a local landowner,
when a free fight ensued, from
which hardly a man in the
neighbourhood issued without
wounds, and in which fifteen
were killed." Still better as
an instance of practical social-
ism is the conduct of a revolu-
tionary mob, which seized a
large estate and appointed

some of their friends to work
it at three or four times the
usual wage. "They began
with paying these wages out
of the cash discovered at the
estate office," writes the social-
ist correspondent quoted by
Mr Mallook. " When this fund
was exhausted, they continued
the payments in question by
selling the trees and cattle, and
when this source of revenue
had run dry likewise (the
estate being no longer capable
of yielding anything), they
actually applied to the expro-
priated landlord for a cheque
to pay the wages of men
now employed as their own
servants."

That our Bolsheviks will
learn the lessons taught by
Russia we do not expect. If
only they can succeed in mak-
ing a revolution they will
squander with a lavish hand
whatever they can seize.
With all cheerfulness of spirit
they will kill the goose that
lays the golden egg, and,
having consumed whatever
crops and beasts they can
find, will grumble that the
plundered landlord cannot
make good their deficiencies
by his cheque-book. The plans
of reconstruction set forth by
the Labour party, with the
sanction of Mr Arthur Hen-
derson, are at once rapacious
and futile. They assume that
all private property must be
placed at the command of
those who have had neither
the thrift nor the skill to
acquire it. They will tax the
incomes of the millionaires up

280

Musings without Method.

[Feb.

to sixteen or nineteen shillings
in the pound, and at the same
time they will make a capi-
tal levy chargeable upon all
property to pay off the
National Debt. Thus they
will have their cake and eat
it ; but they do not explain
how, when the capital levy
has been made, they will find
incomes to tax. Nor do they
tell us by what means the
poor wretches who own pro-
perty will find the money
wherewith to pay the capital
levy. Not even millionaires
keep their millions in stock-
ings, and if to meet the levy
all the property in the land
must be put up for sale at
once, then the wealth of the
country will disappear without
making anybody a penny the
richer. For since there can
be no buyers, the sellers will
find no market. Indeed, the
policy of Mr Henderson re-
sembles exactly the policy of
the Russian revolutionaries,
who to pay extravagant wages
sold all the trees and cattle
on the estate which they had
stolen.

After this we are not sur-
prised to hear that the Sur-
plus, whatever that may mean,
is to be spent for the common
good, and that the railways
are not to be returned to the
shareholders. And as the
shareholders are many of them
poor spinsters and widows,
who have nothing else than
their dividends to live upon,
they will be permitted to
starve, we suppose, that the
sturdy trade unionists may

have shorter hours and more
spending money. But of all
the Labour party's sugges-
tions none is more grossly im-
pertinent than that part of
the imagined Surplus shall be
spent upon "the promotion of
music, literature, and fine art,
which have been under Capi-
talism so greatly neglected,
and upon which, so the Labour
party holds, any real develop-
ment of civilisation fundament-
ally depends." We should like
to discover the humourist who
sketched this plan. The pic-
ture of the Labour party, with
its pocket full of the charges it
has levied upon capital, faced
by an empty treasury and
with no cheques of expro-
priated landowners to help it,
solemnly patronising the fine
arts of music, literature, paint-
ing and sculpture, is ridiculous
beyond even the worst excesses
of the Bolsheviks. The arts
have not been neglected under
Capitalism; they do not ask
the patronage of Labour.
They demand only to be freed
from tyranny of every sort,
and to develop in their own
way. The orgie of bad books,
bad pictures, and vile music
which would be assured by the
corruption of Labour, makes
us gasp. We can only regret
that Spring Onions has left
us, and congratulate those
who hope to rule us that the
pavement artist still lives.

And in this promise to pat-
ronise the arts, which it does
not understand, the Labour
party convicts itself of hypoc-
risy as well as of impertinence.

1918.]

Mr Henderson's War Aims.

281

It oares as little for the arts as
for the glory of England. It
has always fought for its own
hand, without any thought of
patriotism. Its ingenuity has
been exhausted in getting better
terms for itself by insisting
upon such measures as the
Trade Disputes Aot, and now
it oomes forward as the patron
of art and letters, on condition
that it may oonsoribe capital
and lay a greedy hand upon
the Surplus ! Does it never
come into the minds of Mr
Arthur Henderson and his
friends that to encourage the
arts is a very difficult and
delicate enterprise an enter-
prise which has been essayed
successfully by a very few men
of genius? Do these easy-
going optimists think that, by
the mere acquisition of millions
of votes, they will be able to
achieve a triumph which has
conferred an immortal fame
upon great and wise princes ?
If they do not take unto them-
selves some sense of proportion,
then they will certainly outdo
all the worst excesses of Lenin
and his Bolsheviks on the day,
far distant let us hope, when
they make themselves masters
of G reat Britain.

The war aims of Mr Arthur
Henderson and his friends are
as futile as his plans of recon-
struction, and far more mis-
chievous. Before the dreams
of the arch-prig, Mr Sidney
Webb, come true, -Labour has
many tough battles to fight
with itself. We are not blind
to the dangers ahead, and yet
we do not believe that a policy

founded upon jealousy of the
skill and thrift which have
created comfort will ever pre-
vail, or that the envious ones,
miserable themselves, will suc-
ceed in making all the world
equally miserable. And the
vision of Messrs Shaw and
Granville Barker as the pa-
trons of the fine arts, which
have been " neglected under
capitalism," fills us with joy.
Here would be a prospect of
pure comedy if only the hopes
of Labour were not doomed to
disappointment. Two solemn
gentlemen, without a ray of
humour between them, pom-
pously spending the money of
others upon the encouragement
of painting and poetry, pre-
sent such a spectacle as the
world has not seen. They
would give us, with a smirk,
municipal poetry and parlia-
mentary painting. Then would
come the heyday of charlatans,
with votes in their pocket, and
"artists" would be kept in
idleness, merely for hymning
how great was Mr R. Mao-
d on aid, or for decorating the
town halls of Great Britain
with his daubed portraits.
They do not know, these cham-
pions of the Labour party,
that art is a shy bird, and
they think that they may put
upon its tail the salt of paro-
chial patronage.

That, indeed, is the comedy
or the farce of Mr Henderson's
pronouncements. The tragedy
lies, as we have said, in what
he calls his war aims. These
aims, if they were reached,
would mean not war but peace

282

Musings without Method,

[Feb.

peaoe at any price, peace such
as the Germans pray for on
their knees, peaoe which would
enslave England for genera-
tions. Above all, Mr Hender-
son desires to aid and comfort
our enemies. He is desirous
instantly to offer them all the
blessings of FreeTrade, to throw
open our markets to them,
and to provide them, not for
profit but on the easiest possible
terms, with all the raw mate-
rials which they desire for the
purpose of preparing a new and
greater war. As to the Afri-
can colonies, lest there be any
dispute, they are to be taken
out of our hands, if the in-
effable Mr Henderson has his
way, and placed under the con-
trol of " Super-National Au-
thorities." What a phrase!
And what a splendid assurance
the Super-National Authorities
would give for the permanence
of national strife! For the
crimes which Germany has com-
mitted, for her outrages upon
law, Mr Henderson cares noth-
ing. All he wants is to get
to work again, with all the
blessings of Free Trade, and he
does not know that he is merely
a species of worn-out Cobdenism
masquerading under the flash
disguise of emancipated and
enlightened Labour.

To what may we attribute
the pretentious folly of Mr
Henderson's branch of the
Labour party ? To a mixture
of arrogance and ignorance.
The men who can learn
nothing even from the Rus-
sian revolution, who lack al-
together the tradition of gov-

ernment, for whom policy is
sectional greed, are neverthe-
less sure that they can re-
construct the world, cure the
Germans with kindness, and
revive the arts which they
pretend, most erroneously, have
" declined under capitalism."
So they brag of their benevo-
lence and of their wisdom.
With a sort of snobbishness
they plume themselves upon
their readiness to forget and
to forgive the crimes of Ger-
many. They are not as other
men are! They propose to
distribute neither punishment
nor justice. They will give
an example to the world of
forbearance and magnanimity,
and having set Germany on
her legs again, having given
her all the raw materials which
are necessary for the making
of munitions, they will strike
hip and thigh all those of
their own countrymen who
dare to disagree with them,
until Great Britain, sunk in
Bolshevikism, lies unarmed and
defenceless at the mercy of the
Huns.

That Mr Henderson is a
danger there can be no doubt.
With millions of inexperienced
voters added to the register,
it is not impossible that he may
attempt to govern the country.
His programme is attractive
enough. Is there any idler
who can resist the policy of
peace at any price abroad, and
plunder, without charge or
question, at home ? And then
the assumption of " culture " is
attractive to the weak-minded.
To pose as the modern Medici

1918.]

The British Workers League.

283

will work like fever in the blood
of those already inflamed with
vanity. But we may solace
ourselves with the thought that
Mr Henderson's triumph will
not be achieved without a
struggle. He speaks not for
Labour, but for the weakest
section of Labour. In all that
we have said hitherto, we have
spoken only of Mr Henderson
and his clique. We know, and
we rejoice in the knowledge,
that there is another Labour
party, resolutely opposed to
the silly sophistries and inter-
national sentimentalities of Mr
Henderson and his friends. If
you wish to obliterate the de-
pressing effect of arrogance
and ignorance produced by
the manifestoes of Germany's
friends, you have but to turn
to the spirited protest made
against Mr Henderson and all
his words by the stronger, wiser
branch of the Labour party,
which calls itself the British
Workers' League. This League,
of which Mr Hodge is president,
will have no chaffering with
Germany. It wishes to brush
away for ever the malign in-
fluence of Cobdenism, and to
protect the workers of England
in the proper enjoyment of
their coming prosperity. Above
all, its war aims are clear and
clearly expressed. Of Mr Hen-
derson's declaration the League
has these eloquent words to
say : " This declaration is am-
biguous, equivocal, and self-
contradictory. Conceived in
secret diplomacy and intrigue,
it was born of an unholy
alliance between Pacifist In-

dividualism and Cosmopoli-
tan Syndicalism. It in no
sense represents the great
mass of the British manual
workers." So the League
analyses the "war aims" of
the sentimentalists with a piti-
less lucidity. It points out
that the sentimentalists, pay-
ing "lip-service to the cause
of martyred Belgium, demand
the frank abandonment of
every form of Imperialism,
which is an indictment of
Great Britain and the Dom-
inions-beyond-the-Seas; and
the authors of the statement,
apparently forgetful of the
splendid heroism of our Co-
lonial brothers in defence of
the common patrimony, sum-
mon us at the bidding of
Continental and British Bol-
sheviks to co - operate with
them in the task of destroying
the Empire which countless
generations of Britons have
slowly and heroically built up."
A fair and eloquent pronounce-
ment, which proves that in
speech as in thought the Brit-
ish Workers' League is far
superior to the Hendersons
and the Shaws and the
Webbs and the Barkers, who
presume to speak for British
Labour.

And, with no less sure a
hand, the writer of the League's
manifesto sketches what would
be the consequences of Mr
Henderson's domination. " If
these ideas were to be only
partly realised," says he, " the
anarchic fate of Russia would
be the fate of Britain. Their
promulgation signifies that the

484

Musings without Method.

[Feb.

Labour caucus has been cap-
tured by the tireless intrigues
of the Independent Labour
Party, the sinister sentimen-
talists of the Union of Demo-
cratic Control, and a handful
of British Bolsheviks, inspired
by a base cosmopolitanism,
who dream mad dreams of
barricades and booty." That,
indeed, is a fair definition of
the policy of the official Labour
party barricades and booty;
and against this policy the
British Workers' League stern-
ly sets its face. As Mr Hodge
has said, "the Socialism of the
League is to love their country
first and other countries after-
wards." And we cannot ex-
press our love for our country
better than by protecting it
commercially and martially
against the aggression of Ger-
many. We have for many
years left the door open, and
we have not ensured peace.
Now we must reverse our
policy in self-defence, and, in
Mr Hodge's phrase, "sweep
away the old Cobdenite doc-
trines." The ill - considered
philanthropy of Mr Henderson
will not satisfy those who
accept the underlying principle
of the League's programme
National safety, National pros-
perity, National development.
Nor must we, if we are to
succeed in the task of recon-
struction, think only of classes
and parties. "The Nation is
greater than any section, than
any interest, than any class.
As the Nation at war has
known how to die, so the Nation
at peace must learn how to

live." So Bays the Secretary
ef the Workers' League, and
there is no patriot who will
not agree with him.

Then let us remember that
there exist in this country two
parties of labour, each aspiring
to national influence, and that
of them one deserves in essen-
tials the confidence of English-
men, while the other must be
watched with unceasing vigi-
lance, and fought whenever it
lifts its hand or its voice. Be-
tween the two there is a whole
world of thought and ambition.
Mr Henderson, like the inter-
national that he is, thicks only
of sparing the pride and
strength of Germany. Mr
Hodge is determined that Eng-
land shall obtain a decisive
victory as the only prelude to
a lasting peace. Mr Hender-
son is already itching to distri-
bute among our foes, and with
a lavish hand, all the raw mate-
rials which they may need.
Mr Hodge, remembering that
we had to buy back the tung-
sten and wolfram collared by
the Germans, demands that
the Empire shall protect its
own natural wealth. Mr Hen-
derson longs to hob-a-nob once
more with his German friends.
"As a matter of fact," says the
bluff Mr Hodge, " I am a be-
liever in Lord Kitchener's
doctrine of twenty-one years'
ostracism of Germany after
the peace."

The British Labour Move-
ment, then, and the British
Workers' League, are not two
branches of a single party ;
they are two parties, eternally

1918.]

A Villainous Election Cry.

285

and essentially irreconcilable.
Between Mr Henderson's "in-
tellectual " egoism and the
patriotism of the League there
can be and there will be no
fusion. When the next gen-
eral election comes, the old
Tory party, the party of na-
tional defence and national
security, cannot hope to exert
its ancient influence. It has
been disfranchised by the new
Bill. The old Liberal party,
the party of shifty doctrin-
aires, who thought that talk
was always of greater import-
ance than action, will disappear
into the oblivion which it has
earned. And the contest will
be waged between the Labour
Movement and the Workers'
League. Who will win should
not be uncertain. All those
who put their country above
their pocket, who do not prefer
bad morals and sentimental-
ity before statesmanship, will
estimate at his proper worth
the garrulous Mr Henderson.
"Booty and barricades" will
seem a villainous election cry,
we trust, even to the ten
million unpractised voters who
have been added to the reg-
ister \ and we have a good hope
that our British Bolsheviks will
be routed at the polls.

And there is this further
difference between the Labour
movement and the Workers'
League, that while the move-
ment has been content in the
pride of its heart to chatter,
the League has done its best to
study the needs and aims of
a national policy. Mr Hender-
son is persistently immodest.

He adopts always the boastful
tone of one who believes that
he cannot make a mistake.
Even when he proposes to rob
all those who are richer than
himself, he does it with a kind
of unction, as though he were
about to confer a vast boon
upon society. He makes light
of the responsibility which he
has wantonly put upon his
own shoulders, and which he
is far too weak to carry. He
speaks of things which he does
not understand with the voice
of a false authority, and we
would remind him of the wise
warning which Mr Clynes ad-
dressed some time since to him
and his kind. "A great deal
had been said," we quote Mr
Clynes, " about a Labour Gov-
ernment coming in before long.
Well, if they were within a
measurable distance of that
period, he, as a Labour man
and representative of Labour,
would suggest to all Labour
men that the time had arrived
when it behoved them to have
a care in what they said and
did. They must, indeed, try
to set an example to all."
These are words which Labour
in all its sections might well
ponder. Truly they set a very
bad example who, in the act
of offering to Germany all the
concessions, commercial and
political, which she asks, raise
the wicked cry of "booty and
barricades," a cry which has
never failed to arouse the worst
passions of a reckless prole-
tariat.

The sad period which ended
with the declaration of war was

286

Musings without Method.

Feb.

the golden day of politicians,
the dark and cloudy night of
statesmanship. We have been
governed of late by men who
thought the means of politics
far greater than the end, and
who played the game with a
feverish eagerness and in com-
plete indifference to the welfare
of the country. " Et tout pour
la trippe" was their motto.
"And all for Quarter Day."
While they were at work they
effectually deceived the people.
Their words were pompous,
their manners grave. They
talked loudly f the battles
which they had fought and
would fight in the public
service. They lived in an at-
mosphere of tired and feigned
selflessness, and their poor
dupes believed that they were
wearing themselves out in a
good cause. But all the while
they devoted long and labo-
rious days to the congenial
business of intrigue. Their
energies were spent upon keep-
ing this colleague out of the
Cabinet or upon shoving that
one into it. England was a
mere phantom before their
eyes. Even the opposite party
faded to a sad insignificance.
They had something better to
do than to foil their own or
their country's enemies. It
was the duty of each one, so
they thought, to get as high
an office as he could, to get
it as quickly as possible, and
to hold it against all comers.
If you want examples of
political futility, you may find
them in the many volumes
of memoirs and recollections

which pour from the Press.
Since they are published as
marks not of obloquy but of
respect, it is clear that in
the general esteem political
intrigue stands high, or did
stand high until the war.
Take, for example, the career
of Sir Charles Dilke, whose
life has lately been written
by sympathetic hands. Sir
Charles was a laboured, indus-
trious politican who devoted
his days and nights to the
study of affairs. He shirked
no toil that might fit him for
the posts to which he aspired.
And yet all that he did and
thought seems ineffectual to-
day. We do not speak of the
ruin which overtook him. Had
he remained unto the end in
the sun of popular favour, we
should still have to record
what seems to us a wasted
life. The best of his energies
was given t a constant
struggle with political rivals.
As early as 1873 Chamberlain,
then a devout Liberal, writes
to Dilke, also a devout
Liberal, to ask for news of
any "fanatics willing to join
the Forlorn Hope and help in
smashing up that whited
sepulchre called the Liberal
Party." Sir William Hareourt,
always busy when there was
an intrigue afoot, and furious
that he had got no better
office than that of Solicitor-
General, confesses in the
same year that he "felt like
an old bachelor going to
leave his lodgings and marry
a woman he is not in love
with, in grave doubt whether

1918.]

Patriotism or Personal Advancement ?

287

he and she will suit." And
the same stalwart politician,
a few years later, being dis-
contented with the Home
Secretaryship conferred upon
him, threatened an open re-
volt. "When I resign," said
he, "I shall not become a
discontented right honourable
on a back bench, but shall
go abroad for some months,
and when I oome back rat
boldly to the other side." Thus
they acted without a thought
f the country which they
were pledged to serve, and
their successors cannot be sur-
prised when they see the trade
of politician thoroughly dis-
credited.

But the best example of
Dilke's cynicism may be found
in the records of the year 1882.
Lord Frederick Cavendish and
Burke had just been murdered
in the Phoanix Park. A strong
man was obviously needed to
restore some sense of justice
and order to Ireland. Sir
Charles Dilke was chosen for
the post, and would have ac-
cepted it, but for one trifling
obstacle. He refused to accept
it unless he were given a place
in the Cabinet, and since this
place was withheld from him,
Ireland and the country and
the Empire were as dust under
his feet. There is no other
business, except the business
of the State, which could be
carried on with so little feeling
of zeal and loyalty. The call
of patriotism has been silenced
always by the loud shouts of
personal dignity or personal
advancement. And if you

would find another shining in-
stance of irrelevant cunning,
turn to Lord Merley's 'Recol-
lections,' and read the amazing
chapter, where the story is told
of Gladstone's expulsion from
his own Cabinet, and the ap-
pointment of his successor. It
is melancholy reading, but it
will explain why our politicians
refused to warn the country of
the German peril which hung
over it, and why they left us
unarmed and defenceless in the
face of a resolute and unscrupu-
lous foe.

Whatever difficulties lie
ahead of us, one thing is cer-
tain : we shall not surmount
them if we do not find a better
method of politics. If the men
elected to represent our swollen,
ignorant, and irresponsible
electorate adhere to the ancient
ways of intrigue and corrup-
tion, then an end will soon be
put to the Kingdom and the
Empire which have been our
pride. If Mr A. refuses to
serve the country because he
has not got the job he wants ;
if Mr B. sulks because he is not
in the Cabinet, and spends his
nights and days in secret at-
tacks upon his own friends;
then the task of government
will be impossible. Our one
chance of meeting the danger
of the future is that the poli-
ticians put an end to their
old levity and look rather
further towards what is coming
than the nearest vacant office.
If we are to beat the Bolsheviks
at home and abroad, we shall
need all our strength and all
our wisdom. The new Fran-

288

Musings without Method.

[Feb. 1918.

ohise Bill has wantonly and
wickedly complicated the task
of government, and monstrously
increased the risks which we
run. But at least it will rid
us presently of the old gangs,
who, with the aid of party
funds and with a complete
devotion to parliamentary in-
trigue, brought us to the pass
in which we stood at the out-
break of the war. Meanwhile,
we shall confront the new
electors without confidence
either in their goodwill or in

their good faith, and shall
pray fervently that until the
end of the war their opinions
will not be asked or tested.
We wish to witness no vain
experiments in political phil-
osophy so long as we are busy
fighting the Germans, and we
shall prefer to go on, as best
we can, with a tired Parlia-
ment rather than take the leap
in the dark which our dema-
gogues have deprecated in their
speeches and approved by their
votes.

Printed by William Blackwood and Sons.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

No. MCCXXIX. MARCH 1918, VOL, CCIII.

FLIGHT ERRANTS.
I. THE MAKING OF A PILOT.

ABE you sane, healthy, sound good fellows and not many

of nerve, and verging upon dubious ones. And I should

Army age? If so, I submit say that the Air Service

the herewith advice in all sin- wraps less red tape round

oerity become an Air Service its personnel than does any

pilot. Have you a soulful other State department,

craving for some ambushed The inevitable " but " at-

job that will allow you to tending these attractions is

wear a protective uniform? that, to become an efficient

If so, for Heaven's sake pass War pilot, you must live for

on ; your uncle, the retired the work and for nothing else.

General, will no doubt find Prisoilla, your bank account,

you something unstrenuous in the home, the theatre, books,

one of the commandeered cards, your tame dog all

hotels. these should be quite second -

For an average boy there ary concerns until you are

can be no more satisfactory fully trained. How else can

duty, no more interesting you cram into a month or

work, than war-flying; and I two the mastery of many

speak not as the Scribes, but technical subjects which under

as one having authority. It normal conditions would need

is the most adventurous, the a year or two?

most individual, and probably Wherefore it is not to be

the most varied branch of wondered at that Air pilots

combatant service. Also, it seem a race apart, endlessly

includes many thousands of talking air talk, endlessly

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXIX. T

290

Flight Errants.

[March

swapping air yarns whenever
two or three of them for-
gather. This enoroaohment of
shop interest into private life
has created a type the Air-
man out of each and every
material whence officer -power
is drawn. Subalterns from
other arms, men who have
fought in the ranks, men from
five continents and umpteen
colonies, public- school boys, ex-
professional men, ex-students,
ex -farmers, ex -clerks, even a
few stray litteratooers and ac-
tors nowadays all these may
be found wearing the mater-
nity jacket of the R.F.C. Yet
so engrossed are they with
matters aeronautic, that in the
Mess of a training squadron
age and accent are the only
signposts to its members'
diverse pasts. For the rest,
former interests are side-
tracked by flying. Which is
as it should be.

What is the seoret of this
sameness of outlook among
people otherwise so different?
The absorbing quality of fly-
ing in general and war-flying
in particular, and the need
of intensive concentration on
the many subjects that be-
long to war - flying. From
the time when the fledgling
cadet begins his technical
studies to the time when, as
a Temporary Second Lieu-
tenant, he gets his warrant
for France, he grows more
and more aviation-centred, un-
til at length he becomes the
Compleat Pilot.

If the subject interests you,
friend the reader, I will as-
sume you to be an aspirant
for Wings, and will show you

the path to be travelled in the
making of a pilot. Long ago
the Flying Corps discarded the
ridiculous system of taking
eighteen-year-old boys as offi-
cers when they scarcely knew
how to salute. First, then, as
a white - banded private, a
cadet school will teach you
such necessary matters as dis-
cipline, drill, the elements of
military law, Army organisa-
tion, and some idea of the
behaviour required by officer-
tradition and the Assistant
Provost - Marshals. At this
stage you may be bored, but
you must not show it, for in
the Flying Corps nobody under
the rank of Squadron Com-
mander is allowed to appear
blast.

The next stage a School of
Military Aeronautics allows
no time for boredom. There
you must masticate a good
working knowledge of a dozen
highly technical subjects and
pass creditably in each of
them. First and foremost
engines, which are far and
away the most important part
of aircraft. Put a modern type
of engine in an old-fashioned
aeroplane and you will probably
get excellent performances. Put
an old-fashioned type of engine
in one of the most modern aero-
planes and you will get poor
performances. First-rate types
f aeroplane there are in
plenty ; first - rate types of
engines few. It is not too
much to say that two-thirds
of the difficulty of aircraft
production concerns itself with
aero engines. Therefore, a
pilot must have a perfect
understanding of the engines

1918.]

I. The Making of a Pilot.

291

he is likely to use, and a plu-
perfect understanding of how
to keep them in good work-
ing order.

Now, unless you have been
an engineer of sorts, you
probably know as little about
internal combustion engines as
I did before the R.F.C. took
me in hand which is to say,
you have a vague notion of
their methods of generating
power, and, from dabbling in
motor-cars, you can tell which
is and which is not the mag-
neto, the carburetter, a cylinder,
a piston, and a sparking-plug.
Listen carefully to the lectures,
then, and find out how much
there is to learn. Open your
text-books and read hard ; also
make pretty drawings in colour
of such things as thrust-boxes
and oil - pumps. Above all;
take your coat off and dis-
mantle and assemble specimen
engines in the workshops. Your
hands may get dirtied in the
process, but is there not a
manicurist in the High Street ?
And if, after a few weeks at
the S.M.A., you can take any
one of the eight or nine engines
used on active service and reel
off full details of its cycle of
operations, oil supply, thrust
transmission, valve timing,
magneto timing, petrol sup-
ply and consumption; if, in
addition, you can discourse
light-heartedly about valves,
obturator rings, engine drive-
wheels, ball-races, air intake
and oarburation, you will
satisfy the examiners. If not,
try again.

Next in importance comes
the rigging of aeroplanes. As
it is likely that one day your

life will depend on the strength
of a flying wire, or even of a
turnbuckle, you may as well
learn all you can of the subject.
With rigging is bound up the
Theory of Flight ; and to this
also you must be introduced if
you are to trust a machine
and realise why it flies. No,
madam, the engine does not
pull the aeroplane off the
ground, neither is the pro-
peller used to keep the pilet
cool, nor can an aeroplane
stand still in the air at least
not for longer than a fraction
of a second. How, then, is
heavier - than - air flight ob-
tained? To grasp the com-
plete theory, you must know
something of camber, angles of
incidence, thrust, and the dear
old lift-drift ratio. And how
has heavier- than-air flight been
brought to its present standard
of speed, climb, and safety?
Study the inter-relations of
wing-surface, high and low
aspect ratios, stagger, dihedral,
and stream-line; and pay a
tribute to the designers. And,
unless you have the technical
instinct, I would advise you
not to begin with text-books
in expertese which you would
fail to understand, but to read
from cover to over that excel-
lently simple work by Captain
Barber, R.F.C., one of the
pioneers of aircraft construc-
tion, 'The Aeroplane Speaks.'
The technical school likewise
teaches you much that is worth
knowing about bombs and
bomb -dropping, aerial photo-
graphy, cross-country flying,
instruments, meteorology, ma-
chine-guns, wireless telegraphy,
co-operation between aircraft

292

Flight Errants.

[March

and infantry, and artillery ob-
servation. As an instance of
the thoroughness applied to
the instruction of each of these
matters, I will deal with the
last-named. Spotting for the
guns is languaged by oode-
letters, which are wirelessed
from the air and ground-
stripped from the battery posi-
tions. To begin with, there-
fore, you must learn by heart
all signals which may be em-
ployed.

At length come the written
tests, reminiscent in their pro-
cedure of a University or Civil
Service examination. The
questions being technical, it is
advisable to give guesswork
the go-bye when dealing with
them. Otherwise, you may
join the immortals who in the
various examinations made
such weird statements as that
high aspect ratio was the view
of a plane surface as seen from
a high aspect above it, or that
the valves of a rotary engine
opened by centrifugal force.
These answers were surpassed
by that of a Canadian who,
asked what he would do if
enemy craft "sat on his tail,"
took the figurative phrase
literally, and said the tail
would probably fly off and his
machine nose -dive into the
ground. Replies even more
wonderful were sometimes
given in the old days of oral
examination. I remember one
man who knew the action of
a certain bomb, but never
could call to mind the names
of its various parts. Ordered
to describe the explosion, he
said something like this:

" The rush of air turns these

little jiggers, which unscrews
the top of that little chap.
The needle arrangement here
is thus allowed to fall flop on
to this beggar, which ignites
some sort of a powder, which
sets off the fuse. The ex-
plosion is delayed for a second
or so by that little fellow, and
then finds its way to this
bloke, which is called the
detonator, I believe. The de-
tonator thing stretches down
into the main body of the
bomb and stirs up that ex-
plosive stuff there, and the
whole caboodle bursts ut-
wards."

"Ve-ry interesting," said the
examiner ; " and what exactly
is that explosive stuff there ? "

"'Fraid I've forgotten the
name for the moment, but it's
something ending in * ite. J "

"Troglodyte?" earnestly sug-
gested the examiner.

"That's the stuff."

Such answers bring joy to
the examiners, but they will
not help you to pass from
technical work to the more
interesting instruction in act-
ual flying. When you do this,
you discard your white band,
become a Temporary Second
Lieutenant, and associate with
officer-pupils who have trans-
ferred from other branches of
the Army. Also, you are re-
ferred to as a "Hun," which
is a term of scorn applied by
qualified pilots to their un-
winged juniors.

On the first fine morning
after arrival at the aerodrome,
you are introduced to the
Jabber wook - like bus known
officially as a Maurice Farman
and unofficially as a Rumpety

1918.]

7. The Making of a Pilot.

293

unless the squadron uses the
D.H. 6, a more modern type of
training bus, sometimes called
"Hopping Herbert." Squeez-
ing through a dozen wires, you
climb into the nacelle and sit
down on the front stool. Fac-
ing you is the handlebar-like
joystick ("control-lever" is the
disregarded official word) used
on Kumpeties, and ready to
your feet are the rudder-bars.
The real thing at last, you
think, while the instructor ex-
plains the normal use of these
controls.

But it is by no means the
real thing, as you will discover
when you begin flying the
faster craft. All you do on
Rumpeties is to wander round
and round the aerodrome at
the height of a few hundred
feet. As a start, you perform
dual control with the instruc-
tor, who corrects your faults,
and whose presence is a com-
forting insurance against acci-
dent. Very soon for ordinary
flying is an easy business
you can master a machine in
the air with fair success, and
the instruetor shows his con-
fidence by placing both hands
on your shoulders to underline
the fact that the controls are
wholly yours, Make a mistake,
however, and down go his
hands on to the joystick in
double - quick time. But you
find the problem of landing
more difficult ; in fact, landing
is far harder than actual flying.
The theory is to glide down,
with engine shut off, at an
angle a little steeper than
just steep enough to maintain
flying speed, to flatten out
gradually a few feet above the

ground, to touch earth very
gently, and to run along for a
short distance before pulling
up. In the case of a beginner,
what generally happens is that
he flattens out too soon or too
late, or too much or not enough,
and in any case bumps, bumps,
bumps over the grass in a
series of hops.

However, one day, after a
few satisfactory landings, the
instructor jumps out and
says

"Off you go for your first
solo. Keep calm, don't crash,
and God bless you."

You repeat solemnly the
ritual words of the mechanic
at the propeller:

" Switch off, petrol on, suck
in."

" Contaxer ! " the mechanic
continues.

"Contact!" you reply, and
with the throttle-back roar of
the Kennnlt, your ordeal has
begun. Hun your engine full
out for a few seconds as a test,
then throttle back again, and
wave your hand to the me-
chanics holding the wing- tips.
The chocks are pulled clear,
and, gingerly enough, you taxi
the Rumpety to a convenient
spot for taking off from the
ground. Having drawn a deep
breath, you open the engine
full out, gently hold down the
machine's nose, and race into
the wind. Now you have at-
tained flying speed, so pull the
joystick toward you ever so
slightly. The jerking motion
gives place to a pleasant calm,
and you are in the air, with
nobody to help you. You con-
tinue to climb, and find your-
self above the wood at the far

294

Flight Erranta

[March

end of the aerodrome. The
controls begin t feel slack;
so, remembering that the
dread " stalling point " will be
reached if the machine climbs
at under thirty miles an hour,
you push forward the joystick
very hastily. Too hastily, for
the trees seem to be rushing
towards you. If the machine
goes down at more than ninety
it will be in a nose -dive, so
back with the joystick again.
All of which teaches that
heavy- headedness is as much
to be avoided in flying as in
diplomacy and burglary.

At 300 feet you are outside
the aerodrome and may turn.
Suddenly the air slaps your
face a side - slip evidently.
Not enough rudder, so get
level and begin another turn.
Not enough bank this time,
and you swing round, more
than turn round. However,
you are travelling in the re-
quired direction. The sheds
appear tiny and remote as you
approach, and the trees behind
them look like weeds. And
you feel very lonely. Perhaps
the Tanks would have suited
you better, after all? And
why should your mind be so
clear on the point that the
coffin is placed on a gun-
carriage at a military funeral ?
And you have a queer idea that
the bus will do what it pleases,
without reference to yourself.
As it is lurching to the left, on
encountering a "bump" you
can put this theory to the test.
Over to the right with the joy-
stick; and you are reassured.
The Rumpety goes along, level
onoe more, though pointing a
little outwards from the aero-

drome. A slight kick of the
rudder cures this deviation and
you are in line with the sheds.
You are tempted to turn into
the wind and land. But the
orders are to do two circuits,
so keep calm and make for the
corner of the aerodrome before
turning. Half-way round the
second circuit your confidence
reasserts itself, and your turns
are almost faultless, with just
the right amount of rudder
and bank. At last you are in
a position to come down. You
choose a patch of ground clear
of other machines, stuff the
nose down, pull back the
throttle, and, with another
deep breath, start to glide.
Likely enough, the bugbear of
a possible "stall" makes you
bring the bus down rather too
fast. Now flatten out, for you
are close to the ground. Too
much. The nose is going up
push the stick forward again.
Bump! You have hit the
grass and bounced back again.
Bump I more gently. Another
slight hop, and you taxi over
solid earth. Not a disastrous
landing, but certainly not a
good one.

You open out the throttle
and try again. This time you
feel confident from the start
rather over-confident, if any-
thing. The circuit is accom-
plished without undue thrills,
after which you glide down
and make a really smooth land-
ing. Very pleased with life,
you taxi towards the sheds.

"Not so bad," says the
flight commander; "but don't
imagine you're what the papers
call an intrepid birdman. Bun
along to the machine-gun class."

1918.]

/. The Making of a Pilot.

295

During the next few days of
fine weather you make further
exciting oirouits of the aero-
drome on suoh Bumpeties as
remain unorashed, and each
trip makes you feel more at
home. Spare time is deveted
to artillery observation, sig-
nalling on the "buzzer" and
the Viokers and Lewis guns.
At length, when you feel quite
comfortable in the air and have
managed to perform a few such
simple evolutions as S -turns,
spirals, and figure 8's, you are
labelled for transmission to a
School of Higher Instruction.

On this transfer depends
your future work at the Front.
You may go to a squadron
preparing pilots for the two-
seaters that observe for artil-
lery and perform "contact
patrol" with the infantry;
you may find yourself booked
for the faster two-seaters, in
which case your jobs will in-
clude reconnaissance, photo-
graphy, possibly bomb-drop-
ping, and certainly plenty of
fighting ; you may be set to fly
the special craft which carry
out light bomb raids ; or, if you
are light-handed and seem
likely to make a good fighting
pilot, you are trained for the
fast single-seater scouts, on
which your purpose in life will
be to attack Hun aircraft
wherever you see them and,
from low altitudes, to loose
machine-gun bullets and small
bombs at enemy troops and
positions. In any case, your
specialised training is syste-
matic, intelligent, and thor-
oughly efficient. As it was
once my fretful lot to be
a Scout Instructor, I will

deal in particular with that
branch.

For the first week or two
at the advanced school you are
still very much of a "Han."
The instructors, winged and
perhaps decorated, sit apart
from you in Mess at the staff
table. Possibly some of the
" Huns " with you are senior
in rank to some of the in-
structors, and have seen more
active service. Nevertheless,
they are " Huns," and as such
may be gorily t eld- off by one-
pipped pilots proficient enough
to instruct. It is the only
workable method, and a sense
of humour is a great asset to
the seasoned " Hun." Another
thing that helps you to remain
decently humble is the dis-
covery that as yet you know
nothing about real flying. The
"tractor" in which you are
now taken up is very differ-
ent from the lumbering old
" pusher " Kumpety. Prob-
ably it is an Avro with Mono-
souparpe engine to my mind
the best type of instructional
aeroplane in existence. At a
suitable height the instructor
waggles the joystick, as signal
that he wants you to take
control. The bus noses to the
left. You kick the right-hand
rudder-bar, much as you would
have done on a Maurice Far-
man, and the machine swings
round to the right instantane-
ously, almost in a flat spin.
The instruetor taps the stick
twioe, thus ordering a turn.
You yank the joystick over
and put on plenty of rudder,
again after the Rumpety
fashion, and the Avro leans
sideways vertically, its nose

296

Flight Erranta.

[March

slipping downward the while.
The instructor normalises the
controls, shouts forcibly that
your movements are like those
of a cart -horse, and demon-
strates the importance of being
light - handed and sensitive-
footed. Indeed, flying is in
this respect like bob-sleighing,
or driving a fast ear, or riding
a soft - mouthed horse. By
reason of their sense of touch
and their tried nerve, men
who have hunted a good deal,
or driven racing-oars, almost
invariably make good pilots.

Nevertheless, by now you
have the flying sense, and
before long you should be
fit for solo trips on Avros
and other higher training-
machines. If you are wise,
you begin to practise "stunt-
ing " at this stage. Flying
level round and round an
aerodrome is not of much
value, for in France your life
will depend times out of
number on aerobatics. Throw
the machine about, then, in
every possible way. There is
not a single position, ordinary
or extraordinary, from which,
given a thousand feet of height,
an aeroplane cannot be brought
back to the level with the
greatest of ease. First of all,
the vertical (or split - " air ")
turn must be mastered. In
this, with the bus banking
vertically to one side, the
rudder and elevator exchange
functions, and should be treated
accordingly. Once the habit of
split-" air" turns is acquired,
you will seldom use any other
kind. Next comes the side-
slip, which is easy enough,
and will be useful when at

close quarters with Archie
shells or hostile craft. The
climbing turn, and its first
cousin the "Immelman," are
also well worth practice. Then
there is the most famous of all
stunts the loop. It is quite
easy, but one's nerve needs
screwing up to high tension
before the first attempt, much
as in the case of a high dive
into water. To prepare for a
loop increased speed is neces-
sary, so hold down the nose
of the machine for a second.
Now pull back the joystick,
not too roughly, until it is
pressing against your tummy.
Nose first, the bus shoots up-
ward, revolves on to its back,
hangs there for a fraction of a
second, falls down in a straight
nose-dive, and flattens out to
the level. If you have con-
fidence in your safety-belt, the
sensation of a first loop will
not be very striking, except
that the ground looks strange
from upside-down.

A useful manoeuvre, which
has allowed many a badly-
damaged machine to escape
from enemies, is the spinning
nose-dive. You shut off the
engine and, holding the joy-
stick well back, put on full
rudder to right or left. The
bus heels over steeply to which-
ever side you have ruddered,
and twists downwards, spin-
ning like a log in a whirlpool.
Yon may get giddy and lose
the sense of direction amid the
toplike turns, but the machine
can always be brought into an
ordinary nose- dive by central-
ising the controls.

Another stunt worth culti-
vating for use in a fight is the

1918.]

L The Making of a Pilot.

297

roll, or sideways loop, wing-
tip over wing-tip. On many
machines it can be continued
for several revolutions without
a stop. All these aerobatics,
with others in the aerial bag of
tricks, are essential if you want
to make a successful fighting
pilot.

At about this period you
may have your first crash an
event which, sooner or later,
happens to every pilot. Likely
enough it occurs through a
flat turn near the ground, or
through drifting sideways as
you flatten out of a glide. The
wheels hit earth in a transverse
direction, or perhaps the bus
topples on to one wing, per-
haps it tilts forward and stands
on its nose, perhaps the under-
carriage gives. In any event,
you pull up jerkily in an un-
natural position, are bruised, or
at any rate shaken, for several
days after the unpleasant ex-
planation with your flight
commander. But in future,
you will realise the hardness of
the ground and take good care
not to glide in with drift. To
many, a mild crash is the best
preventive of carelessness and
over- confidence.

Another turning - point of
your air career is the first long
cross-country flight. Already,
in trips around the aerodrome,
you have accustomed yourself
to reading the groundscape-
mosaio, as seen from a few
thousand feet. Now, on a 60-
mile tour, to include landings
at a couple of aerodromes other
than your own, you are initi-
ated into finding the way by
map and compass. The journey
teaches you the guide value to

an airman of railways, rivers,
canals, and roads, and of the
shape of woods and lakes in
reference to map - bearings.
Also, from beginning to end of
it, you should make a study of
the near-by fields, so as to be
ready for a possible forced
landing. If such a misfortune
happens, choose the largest and
smoothest meadow, find out
the exact wind-direction, and
allow yourself plenty of space
when touching earth. After-
wards, anything may occur
while you wait for assistance.

Forced landings have been
responsible for all sorts of hap-
penings to pilots, from mar-
riage to pneumonia. Once,
when my engine conked, I
landed on a lawn near a big
house. Two middle-aged men,
complete with buttonholes and
gaiters, arrived. I asked after
the nearest telephone. One
man turned his back and left
without a word, but clearly the
other one was anxious to help.
He removed his hat, bowed
with distinction, scratched his
head, and said

" Thank you I mean to say,
Good morning. You can 'phone
from the village church, I
think."

" The village church ? "
myself, incredulously.

" Yes, I think you can 'phone
from the church."

We remained looking at
each other in puzzled man-
ner, until a white -faced girl
approached, accompanied by a
nurse. The man became con-
fidential and clutched my arm.

"You see that lady?" he
half whispered.

"Yes."

298 Flight Erranta. [March

" She's a duke's daughter." oart, motor-oar, wheeled-ohair,
c * Indeed ? " perambulator, and foot. Scores
"Yes. Her intended broke of children continue to spring
off the engagement, and this from nowhere in particular,
so affected the poor girl's until it becomes evident that
brain that she became one the birth-rate problem would
of us." cease to exist if all parents
I had landed in the grounds did their duty to the same ex-
of a private lunatic asylum ! tent as the village elders. The
The engine repaired, I waved small boys dodge under the
to the small crowd as the planes, try to finger wing-
machine rose from the lawn, tips, elevator - wires, and en-
The duke's daughter was gine, and ask what makes
haughtily unresponsive, but the propeller go round, and
the church telephonist again whether you have dropped
removed his hat and bowed bombs on Germany, and,
with distinction. above all, when the airyplane

What usually follows a is going up, Mister?

forced landing is something And you decide that, after

of this sort. You send for a all, Herod wasn't a bad sort

local policeman, Regular or of chap.

Special, to guard the machine Between flights you must
while you telephone. A small sandwich attendance at ground-
boy arrives, and asks when the classes in various side-lines of
airyplane came down, Mister? war -flying. Each day lec-
A small girl arrives, and asks tures are given by experts on
when the airyplane is going some such subject as aerial
up, Mister ? A farm labourer fighting, formation - flying,
arrives, and tells you how bomb-dropping, reconnaissance,
the Zeppelins passed over the contact patrol, artillery ob-
village, five months ago. Many servation, and the use of
more boys and girls arrive, machine-guns. Having note-
and ask when the airyplane booked and learned a good
is going up, Mister? The deal of these matters, all that
policeman arrives, receives in- remains to be done before
struotions not to let anybody qualifying for a notice in
write his name on the planes the 'Gazette' as " Fly ing
or touch the machine, and Officer " is to pilot a type
tells you how the Zeppelins of aeroplane used on active
passed over the village, five service.

months ago. Amid a quick But this graduation does
fire of questions from small not include a right to wear
boys, you walk to the Post the winged badge of a pilot.
Office, telephone for mechanics, Various final tests in the air
and walk back again. The have to be passed. The two-
crowd is now much bigger, seater pilots must wireless
and grws every minute. Men, down accurate eorreotions of
women, and babies of every an artilleiy shot ; must drop
age visit you by bicycle, trap, flares at ground targets, the

1918.]

/. The Making of a Pilot.

299

line of descent being recorded
as that of a bomb ; must read
signals from the ground as
though in eo- operation with
infantry; and must take suc-
cessful photograpliy. For you,
as a soout pilot, the important
tests are formation-flying and
fighting tactics.

In France, if you do not
habitually keep close to the
rest of the patrol, sooner or
later some concealed Boohe
scouts will pounce, out you off,
and maybe shoot you down.
Flying in good formation
needs plenty of practice. The
surrounding machines look
nearer than they really are,
and an ungrounded fear of
collision tends to keep you too
far away from them. Also,
the engines must be throttled
back and forward exactly the
right amount; otherwise you
lag behind, or get in somebody
else's line of flight. When
turning in mass, the inner
machines have a very small
radius of movement, and their
pilots must throttle down
almost to stalling-point, while
the machines on the far side
are obliged to swerve in large
radius at a greatly increased
speed. These difficulties must
be definitely overcome, for if
you cannot keep close forma-
tion unconsciously, you will
waste valuable attention that
should be devoted to searching
for Huns.

As a soout pilot your most
important branch of training
is aerial fighting. The pro-
fessors of this expert science
are men who have themselves
fought over the lines for many
months. From time to time

they pay a "refresher" visit
to France, where they fly with
a scout squadron, and pick up
the latest developments in air
tactics.

The fighting instructor
makes an appointment with
you at, say, 3000 feet above
the large wood bordering the
aerodrome. The two machines
approach in mimic attack, and
it is the pupil's aim to reach
a "blind" spot in relation to
the hostile craft that is to
say, a position whence he can
fire effectively without being
fired at in return. All your
skill at "stunting" is needed,
for during an aeroplane scrap
the machines twist, swerve,
and roll round each other in
delirium tremens manner.
Straight flying is worse than
useless, for it makes you an
easy target; whereas if the
movement be continuously er-
ratic, accurate aim by your
opponent becomes impossible.
And if, during the sham fight,
you lose sight of the instructor,
stunt like the devil until you
pick him up ; most likely he is
in a "blind spot" just under-
neath your tailplane, counting
the rounds he might have
plugged into you.

Finally, all pilots, no matter
what their branch of work,
go to a School of Aerial Gun-
nery. Here you not only learn
everything that can be taught
about the weapons which will
mean life or death to you, but
you are given ingenious op-
portunity for firing them. To
begin with, the usual ground
practices are carried out, as
in the case of infantry. After-
wards the pupil shoots at

300

Flight Errants.

[March

aeroplane targets, stationary
and disappearing, taking aim
through the special deflection-
sights by means of which
allowance is made for speed
and direction. Next come
various side-lines, sportive but
useful, such as firing at bal-
loons and clay pigeons, firing
from swinging trollies that
travel along narrow - gauge
rails, and firing from suspended
oars that travel along over-
head wires. To round off the
course, the pilots use their
machine-guns in the air, firing
from the different types of
machine, both at targets on
the ground and at tow-targets
trailed behind another aero-
plane. If, after a complete
course at the School of Aerial
Gunnery, you cannot doctor
Viokers and Lewis guns and
shoot fairly well with both
of them, something is wrong
with your intelligence or your
eyesight.

At last you have passed
every test that divides the
"Hun" from the pukka Ser-
vice pilot. And, looking back,
I think you will admit that,
though the work seemed stren-
uous at times, it was intensely
interesting. Get the nearest
tailor to sew wings on your
tunic before you visit town
on overseas leave. And if
you are so minded during the
limited time allowed, you may
renew the lost threads of your
lighter interests Prisoilla,
your bank account, the home,
the theatre, books, cards, your
tame dog. For the rest, any
day may mean au revoir to
them, as you settle down in
the boat-train from Victoria.

If, however, you are kept in
England for a while longer,
grab at every opportunity for
flying ; throw the bus about as
if it were Cinquevalli's cannon-
ball, and practise cross-country
flying at low altitudes, stunting
the while like blazee. This last
may waken old gentlemen from
their countryside slumbers, so
that they write protesting
letters to 'The Times' about
" dangerous and unnecessary
antics of young airmen." But
don't mind that ; you, not they,
will have to fly a few hundred
feet above enemy country,
dodging machine-gun bullets
and flaming onions.

And so, by way of finishing-
off practice in France, to daily
meetings with German aero-
planes and Archibald's anti-
aircraft devilries. May the
gods protect you !

My history of the making of
a war pilot is necessarily in-
complete, but it is enough to
show what an efficient system
of training has been evolved by
the Air Service. Moreover, it
springs from impressions of
training gathered in 1917.
Since then the system, sensitive
to the ever-changing character
of war in the air, has been
speeded up by reorganisation.
It is operating at scores of
aerodromes and dep6ts in
Great Britain and at dozens
more in the Colonies and De-
pendencies, and it is responsible
for the production of many
thousand pilots each year.

The most important of the
recent developments in training
is the K.F.C. School of Special
Flying, the methods of which
are being widely copied by

1918.]

/. The Making of a Pilot.

301

other schools. These methods
may well revolutionise the
teaching of aviation. Flying,
still in its childhood, has since
babyhood been afflicted with
growing pains, the most
troublesome of them being a
certain indefiniteness in blend-
ing theory with practice. For
example, new pilots know by
experience the effect on an
aeroplane of all actions by the
controls ; but comparatively
few of them could explain
exactly what is performed by
each conjunction of movements
by the rudder, elevator, and
ailerons. Which is regrettable,
for a clearer understanding
gives added confidence and pre-
vents liberties with the factor
of safety.

Recognising that existing
methods of instruction in avi-
ation were more or less hap-
hazard, an officer evolved a
scheme whereby a pupil's intro-
duction to the air would be both
scientific and practical. He
analysed the principles of flight
in relation to their bearing on
aeroplane controls ; reduced the
analysis to the plainest of for-
mulae; translated the formulae
into " patter " easy of remem-
brance by the dullest brain;
and divided and subdivided the
patter into a series of simple
lessons to be given and demon-
strated while flying. The sys-
tem produced extraordinary re-
sults, and it is now leavening
the whole of the Air Service.
Many pilots with hundreds of
hours over enemy country to
their credit studied the new

methods during the same course
as myself, and each one owned
that hitherto his understanding
of aviation had been incom-
plete. This plan has been
entirely successful. For one
thing, it has proved elementary
instruction on such archaic
buses as the Maurice Farman
to be superfluous. The S.S.F.
" Huns " begin on Avros, and
on them learn the graduated
" patter " while in the air with
an instructor. The various
" stunts " are likewise analysed
and demonstrated by the in-
structors, so that a number of
pupils have actually looped the
loop and performed voluntary
spinning nose-dives during a
first solo flight.

It is obvious that such high
standards of training for war
aviation will constitute a valu-
able foundation for after-the-
war aviation, though the most
difficult subjects in the making
of a war pilot are those dealing
with the special requirements
of active service. Aviation,
merely as a means of getting
from one place to another, is a
simple matter. It is not gener-
ally realised that ordinary fly-
ing is as easy as ordinary
motoring, and nearly as safe.
Wherefore, when the inven-
tors turn their attention from
war requirements to surmount-
ing the obstacles of expense,
weather, and comparative
risk, and when tens of thou-
sands of ex-war pilots become
peace pilots, the age of uni-
versal flight should not be
distant.

302

[March

THE WHISTLE.

I. PAST HISTORY.

MB HOWARD'S appearance
in our midst was something of
a mystery. I say appearance,
because "arrival" would be
altogether too definite and too
ordinary a word to describe
the strange way in which we
became aware of this remark-
able personality, and realised
that unconsciously, as it were,
he had become one of our
inmost circle. That was in
itself rather a remarkable per-
formance for a stranger.

I must explain. I suppose
most remote country districts
have that inmost circle ex-
clusive, rather narrow-minded
and jealous if you like, but,
always provided you are one
of the circle, very good fun
and very pleasant company.
Oar circle of friends was very
much as others of the same
kind I suppose, but if anything
rather more forbidding to the
stranger : a collection of a few
families living in big houses
not very near each other:
men and women who had been
children together, gone to
parties together, and who now
hunted together, danced to-
gether, played tennis together,
and generally married each
other: indeed we were mostly
cousins, good friends in spite
of some bickering, and with a
small world quite sufficient for
our enjoyment.

There was only one big
house in the neighbourhood
which contributed nothing to

our happy family. Long
Combe was a famous house
among antiquaries. Like so
many old English houses it
was a monument of many
ages, an illustration, in wood
and stone and brick, of the
customs and thoughts of suc-
ceeding generations, from the
days of the third Edward
the narrow stone passages and
the great kitchen to the
Tudor hall, the Elizabethan
front and the graceful brick
chimney-stacks, and the carved
staircase of the Restoration.
There was a more modern
wing decorated by Adam : and
an Italian garden and loggia,
which dated from the time
when Sir Francis Joyce in the
eighteenth .century returned
from the Continent with new
ideas of art and decoration,
and a mixed company of
Italian advisers.

From that time Long Combe
had ceased to grow : Sir
Francis' foreign friends, his
harebrained schemes and
prodigal expenditure over ter-
races and colonnades and arti-
ficial lakes, his mad pursuit of
all that might masquerade as
Art, and last, but not least,
his taste for the best wine and
plenty of it, had crippled Long
Combe and the family of Joyce
for good and all, and prema-
turely closed a very fascinating
tale of English history.

The Joyces indeed had re-
mained at Long Combe; but

1918.]

The Whistle.

303

that is about all that can be
said. They had maintained
themselves with difficulty : the
timber was out down and sold
old Sir Francis' lime avenue
was the last to go, that was in
1820 then gradually the land
went ; first, the outlying farms,
and then as need grew press-
ing, more and more passed out
of their hands till only the
Park remained. The art trea-
sures had been disposed of
secretly or not in the open
market but most of Sir
Francis' collection had gradu-
ally dribbled away pictures,
furniture, china and by the
time old John Joyce, the last
Joyce at Long Combe, began
to look round for something
with which to raise the wind,
there was nothing left, at least
nothing which he could sell.
There was only one treasure
left at Long Combe then some
beautiful church plate, Italian
Renaissance work, which had
been in the family long before
the days of the old collector,
and had always been regarded
as sacred and inviolate by Sir
John's predecessors, I don't
know the rights of the case,
but I believe there was some
good reason besides that why
he should not sell it some
story of a curse and all sorts
of dire penalties ; however, that
wasn't going to stop old John.
He was up to the neck in some
railway scheme then, and a
few thousands he thought
would see him out of the wood
and on the highroad to for-
tune; perhaps ha had visions
of saving the old family too,
and thoughts for Long Combe
and the distant cousin, a boy

then, who would succeed him :
one may as well give him credit
for something better than mere
selfishness.

Anyhow, old John sold the
plate, and if things had been
bad before, they became ten
times worse now. He went
absolutely smash, lost what
little money he had, and com-
pletely retired from the world.
My father remembered the
time indeed all our fathers
did, tjie men of the last genera-
tion how the house was shut
up and old John lived there
alone for a few years more, see-
ing no one, and never appearing
outside. When he died, no
one knew much of the circum-
stances; there was a bit of a
mystery, as was rather natural
considering the strange state
of things, and gradually of
course all sorts of stories and
legends grew up about the
house being haunted, probably
only gossip.

When I first remember, old
Sir John had been dead five
years and the house empty;
then it was taken by a cotton
spinner from the north, who
stayed a year or so, and after
him by a succession of tenants,
with periods of desertion be-
tween each. But none of them
stayed long two or three
years at most; they left for
various reasons, but I never
heard they'd been driven out
by ghosts or any tale of that
kind.

So it was that Long Combe
had never settled down into
the "happy family" round
about, and whoever were there,
not through any fault of their
own, poor people, but merely

304

The Whistle.

[March

because we felt they were birds were so out of our lives,

of passage, were never con- and that the Joyce heir, if

sidered as part of our little ever there was one, had dis-

world. It was sad that the appeared from off the face of

great house and garden, with the earth.

their history and old assooia- So far this has been retro-

tions, which we felt ought to speotion, and I must get on

be the centre of everything, with the story.

II. MR HOWARD APPEARS.

At the time of which I write
Long Combe had been empty
for many years ; the supply of
spasmodic tenants seemed to
have run dry, and the poor old
place had settled down, appar-
ently, to a resigned decay.

There was some surprise then
when it became known that
the house had been let, and
not only let, the story said, but
the tenant was in, and, wonder-
ful to relate, had actually been
living there for the past month
without any of us knowing any-
thing about it that's to say,
any of us from the happy family.

It was a strange state of
affairs: and this is where Mr
Howard comes on the scene.
About three months ago to
be more precise, on Tuesday,
the 2nd of November the
Happy Family Hunt had held
its opening meet : the scene, as
usual, was the market-place of
Button, and there before the
Phoenix Inn had congregated
the accustomed crowd of
friends and neighbours on
their accustomed horses. The
genial Master dispensing cherry-
brandy to all comers, a dozen
or so ladies, old Johnson, the
father of the Hunt, in a black
cap which had seen too many
seasons and a coat almost

purple with age, a few of us
younger ones in pink coats
and white breeches, feeling
very smart, twenty or thirty
farmers full of good cheer,
and two local parsons, made
up the field. There were a
few strangers, of course, some
guests at houses round about,
some of them no doubt visitors
staying in the metropolis of the
county about fifteen miles away
occasionally people came out
for a day from there. Well,
there were one or two of this
kind out that day, and among
them one that we all noticed
for his particularly smart turn-
out and the blood horse he
was riding and later in the
day for the way in which he
rode a rattling forty minutes
over the best of our country.
He certainly was rather a
remarkable figure: a little old
man with white hair and
moustache and wrinkled brown
face smiling affably at every
one, he sat hunched like a
monkey on his big horse. But,
my word ! when hounds started
running he didn't look much
like an old man; he jammed
on his hat and sat down and
rode, and none of us will forget
it, for we of the Happy Family
don't like being cut out by a

1918.]

The Whistle.

305

stranger; anyhow he leffe us
all behind.

That evening I rode back
with the Master, and as we
jogged home with hounds we
were talking of the day's sport,
the horses, the state of the
country, and all that sort of
thing. " By the way," he said
to me, "who on earth was that
funny old devil on the blood
horse?" "I don't know," I
answered; "but, by Gad, he
does go!" "Yes, that's all
very well, but he's an infernal
nuisance; do you know, he
very nearly lost that hunt for
us? He was the only man
who saw the fox slip away
down the hill young Tom,
who ought to have been watch-
ing there, lost himself in covert.
Well, suddenly I heard some
one blowing a whistle like the
very deuce, and I galloped down
to the lower end to see what
it was all about, and there I
found our white - whiskered
friend sitting on his horse
outside covert, with a whistle
stuck in bis face, blowing like
nothing on earth. 'What in
hell's your trouble?' I roared
him. He took the whistle out
of his mouth and pointed,
1 Fox gone away, Master,' he
says, *and half your pack on
the line there they go, see.'
1 Then why the blazes couldn't
you holloa ? ' I said : I was
pretty wild with him and none
too civil. He looked at me out
of his little sore wed -up blue
eyes and smiled. 'Well,' he
said, ' I generally attract
people's attention with this :
it never fails.'

" It was no use arguing with
a lunatic like that, and I blew

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXIX.

the rest out of covert quick,
and got 'em on the line; but
why the deuce couldn't the
fellow holloa I suppose he's
got a voice instead of using
a condemned penny whistle ?
Anyhow, I hope I impressed
him, and that he'll mend his
ways, because he's going to
be with us all this season ;
sent a fat cheque already. I
talked to him again after the
hunt had to make friends,
you know and he told me he
was staying at the pub. at
Combe; had been there six
weeks, though I can't think
why none of us have seen
him; he's got three horses
there, and means to hunt
regularly. I couldn't get
much out of him : he's a rum
'an can't be half as old as he
looks ; but he won't say much ;
changes the subject if he thinks
you're trying to find out who
he is or where he comes from :
name's Howard, he says."

Well, that was the first time
Mr Howard appeared amongst
us, though he'd been living at
the inn at Combe for six weeks.

Of course, the story of that
opening day and his scene
with the Master got about :
it amused every one a good
deal, as our Master was rather
famous for his temper, and the
tale lost nothing in its circula-
tion ; to ask him if he'd got his
whistle with him was a certain
draw. However, that's by the
way. Mr Howard appeared
regularly now at every meet,
and always went well : he was
not exactly forthcoming, but
always very civil and pleasant,
and in time the little white-
haired figure on the blood
U

306

The Whistle.

[March

horse became a familiar feature
of the Hunt, and one which we
oould ill have spared. We said
" the Man with the Whistle "
brought us luck, for to all of
us he was soon known by that
name, and I think he knew it,
and was rather pleased. We
never saw him without the
whistle: out shooting, he car-
ried it in his breast-pocket, and
was always seen fingering it
between beats : in church he
caressed it during the sermon :
when he dined out he would rap
it on the table to emphasise
points in his conversation, for
he was a great talker we
found on further acquaint-
ance; and out hunting he
wore it, and used it as he had
that first day ; and we all knew
that any fox " holloaed " away
by Mr Howard's whistle would
show sport. So it was we
found that quite unconsciously
Mr Howard and his lucky
whistle were become one of
us : he had drifted into the
inner circle, an unknown,
rather mysterious, white-haired
little man, who talked in a
strange reminiscent way of
all parts of the world, all
climates, and most peoples,
and who, for all we could
gather, had no particular his-
tory and no particular desires.
It was soon after Mr Howard
had been finally and unreserv-
edly welcomed amongst us
that is to say, had hunted
and shot and dined and gone
to church with the county
clique that we heard Long
Combe was at last let again.
It caused a good deal of sur-
prise, and not a little curiosity,
as to who the tenant was ; and

for some days this was the
general subject of conversa-
tion, until some one happened
to mention it to Howard.

" Long Combe's let again,
have you heard? You know,
the big place beyond Combe
village, where you're staying."

Mr Howard looked up
quiokly. " Yes," he said, " I've
taken it. What's more, I've
lived there a month already:
didu't any of you know ? "

" Know ? of course we didn't
hadn't heard it was let till
last week; but, if I may ask,
why on earth did you settle
on that place ? It's hope-
lessly tumble - down and vast
as a prison."

" Yes, I know ; but it's got
possibilities, you know, possi-
bilities And besides, you

see, I've had a restless life
knocked about a good bit
abroad and an old place in
England with a fine history
like that rather attracts me.
I thought I'd try it for a
bit, anyhow."

That's all he'd say: not a
word about what he meant to
do with the great place no
real reason why he'd taken it
didn't know if he'd stay there
long; he was evasive about
the whole matter, and didn't
much want to be questioned.
When we'd got over our as-
tonishment, we were naturally
glad that "the Man with the
Whistle" had taken Long
Combe : we had got used to
his queer mysterious way,
which really rather amused
us ; and it certainly was a
great thing to feel that the
old house had got a good
tenant at last, and would

1918.]

The Whistle.

307

again have a place in our
lives.

And now Long Combe, after
a century's sleep, awoke again.
Mr Howard started modestly.
I believe, as a matter of fact,
he lived in only two rooms at
first, with an old woman to
cook and a man to "do" for
him; but this, of course, was
rather natural, considering the
house had hardly been inhab-
ited for the last ten years,
and now needed extensive re-
pairs and complete redeoora-
tion to make it presentable.
I must say we had all noticed
with pleasure that Mr Howard
did not mean to have any half
measures; and for all that he
said or rather left unsaid
on the subject, he evidently
was making preparations for
a long stay. We were glad
to see masons and carpenters
and painters getting busy
about the place. Mr Howard
did it rather handsomely. The
new regime at Long Combe
was ushered in by a grand
house - warming dinner, at
which we all assembled, and,
as Mr Howard put it, made
sure for ourselves that the
old house was once more
alive.

It certainly was alive there
was no doubt about it. Never
since old Sir Francis' time had
the rooms been so ablaze with
lights and so full of the buzz
of happy conversation. The
floors were polished and shin-
ing, the walls repainted, and
pictures and furniture and
china showed that the new
tenant had plenty of taste
and plenty of money though
I am sure none of us knew

where he had come by either ;
that didn't trouble us much.

The dinner was a cheery
affair, as dinners are wont to
be in our family circles; but,
except for an extra amount
of laughter and talk, there
was nothing very remarkable.
One incident I do remember:
it was when the ladies had gone
out and we were left alone
over the wine and the eigars.
Mr Howard had not spoken
much during the evening: he
had seemed content to sit by
and watch us enjoy ourselves
and hear us admire the re-
surrected glories of the place.
But now he opened out and
was talking hard at the other
end of the table, telling some
story or other. I couldn't
hear exactly what it was
about, but he was speaking
rather excitedly; then I saw
him lean forward in that way
we all knew so well, and tap
on the table to emphasise his
point.

" Halloa, old man ! " said a
voice at his end of the table,
" where on earth's the whistle ?
I declare you are hitting the
table with your hand ! I do
miss the rap of the little
whistle!"

I saw Mr Howard look up
at the speaker, then down at
his hand with an almost
puzzled expression. He gave
an uneasy little laugh, but
smiled as usual as he replied,
"Oh I don't know: I haven't
got it on to-night : but I say,
you fellows, it's time we went
in and joined the ladies now."

But the subject wasn't
dropped at once. When we
got into the drawing-room we

308

The Whistle.

[March

chaffed him a bit about not
wearing it on this of all nights.
"You ought to be wearing it
to-night," Mrs Pearson said ;
" I'm perfectly certain it brings
luck. Do you know that this
season we've had the four
longest runs that any one re-
members, and each time you
'blew* the fox away on your
whistle?" " Yes," I said ; " and
look here, Howard, do tell us
the history of your talisman.
Where did you pick it up ? Is
it Chinese jade or what? it's
such a curious-looking thing
I've often wondered."

"Oh, I'll tell you one day,"
said our host; "but it's too
long a stery now I'll spin
you the yarn sometime." And
with that he turned away and
the subject was dropped.

After that first house-warm-
ing Long Combe went ahead,
and during the spring and
summer the gardens were put
into order, the stables were
rebuilt on modern lines, and
before the autumn we heard
that Howard had taken a good
deal of shooting round about
once, of course, part of the
estate, but long ago sold and
had got a nice lot of birds :
at the same time he told us
he'd taken the house on a ten
years' lease.

That season, what with
shooting and hunting and al-
most weekly dinners, we saw
plenty of Long Combe and ita
tenant and the more we saw

of them the more we liked
them both! I must say he
was an extraordinarily gene-
rous and hospitable man : this
season he'd got some more
horses, and was always giving
people mounts. "It's a young
*un," he'd say, "too hot for an
old man like me; but if you
don't mind a bit of rough-
riding, it's really a kindness
to me if you'd have a day on
him : " and you'd find yourself
enjoying a day on a tip-top
horse with perfect manners.
"Wish to goodness he'd buy
the place," was what we all
said and no wonder!

Then the shooting there was
great fun : he had old-fash-
ioned ideas. " I'll see you have
plenty to shoot, but bring your
own sandwiches we don't
waste time banqueting," was
his invariable remark: and he
never would have ladies out
shooting. The parties were
"men only," and we nearly
always stayed the night, and
shot on both days and there
certainly was always plenty to
shoot, and a cheery company.

It was at one of these
bachelor parties that the al-
most forgotten subject of his
precious whistle turned up
again : it was a mere chance,
just a turn in the conversa-
tion, but it had rather sur-
prising results, for it led Mr
Howard to tell us a strange
story, and began a fresh page
in the history of Long Combe.

in. MB HOWARD'S STORY.

It happened like this. Our as he had to interview the
host had left us after dinner, keeper about the next day's

1918.]

The Whistle.

309

programme, and we were sit-
ting round the billiard - room
fire, four of us, smoking and
talking. The conversation
drifted from subject to subject,
until somehow I can't ex-
actly remember how it settled
on haunted houses and ghosts
and all that sort of thing. We
were swapping yarns, and I
suppose telling the usual tall
stories, when our host returned.
"Well," he said, "what are all
you fellows talking about ? "
"As a matter of fact," I an-
swered, "we were discussing
family ghosts and spooks if
you want to know." "Silly
thing to talk about this time
of night," said Howard ; " better
try something else or you'll
dream." " Yes, and we shan't
hold straight to-morrow. Let's
change the subject. It's your
turn to talk now, and there's a
yarn you've always promised
us what about that blessed
old whistle?"

He looked at me, suddenly
growing serious. " As it hap-
pens, that wouldn't be changing
the subject," he said quietly.

"What d'you mean? Is it
a ghost story? That sounds
awfully mysterious, but you
must tell us now you've roused
our curiosity."

"Do you really want to
hear?" he said. "Well, I'll
tell you I've always meant
to."

He sat down and looked into
the heart of the fire for a
moment, then he began,

" I will try and tell you this
story as briefly as possible," he
said, "both because it's a long
story and because well, it's the
story of my life, and there are

some things I'd like to leave
out. I needn't start quite at
the beginning, as that doesn't
matter much, and my earliest
recollections aren't very cheer-
ful. My father died when I
was about five I can't remem-
ber much about him except
that he must have left precious
little for my mother and me.
We lived in a North Country
town, and there I went to the
local school till I was fifteen,
when a friend of my mother's
managed somehow or other to
smuggle me into a place in a
shipping-office in Liverpool; I
can't have been of much use,
but I earned a little money and
was not a dead-weight on my
mother. As far as I knew
then, we had no living relations
at least, I never heard my
mother speak of any till one
day when we were talking
about my father, she happened
to mention that there was a
cousin of his still alive, at least
she believed so, 'an old miser
with a big place in the South/
she said, ' but I have never
seen him, and I don't suppose
you will.'

"However, I was soon to
make his acquaintance, for, to
cut a long story short, my
mother got a letter one day in
which the old man claimed us
as his relations, and expressed
a desire to see me ; in fact, I
was invited to go down there.

" Well, I went. And I shall
never forget it.

" It was a long train journey
right down there from Liver-
pool, and I remember wonder-
ing all the way what he would
be like, and feeling very much
alarmed at the prospect of

310

The Whistle.

[March

visiting a big honse. I was
only sixteen. I got to the end
of my journey at last, and was
driven up in a ramshackle cart
and set down before the door
of my kinsman's house. I was
rather surprised to notice that
apparently I was not expected.
I had to hammer on the door
before at last it was opened by
an old woman, and I was ush-
ered into a great hall scarcely
lit by the two candles that
stood on the chimney-piece.
But I was far more surprised
when I was introduced to my
cousin. I found him sitting
crouched over a fire, an old
man with a long lean face, and
it didn't take me long to see
that he was pretty far gone.
But he was worse than that :
he was three parts mad. I
won't bore you with his ram-
blings and ravings : he began
talking to me as if he had
known me all my life, and
before I had been there an
hour I realised, almost with-
out surprise, that I was his
heir : that was the main part
of his conversation, and he
kept on repeating it, ' you can
have it you can have it all ' ;
but he spoke too in his wan-
derings of some apparently
unforgivable sin that he had
committed, something that
would be a ' curse on the
place.' I couldn't make it
out at all. It was an extra-
ordinary situation. Here was
I, an almost penniless boy out
of a Liverpool office, summoned
to the other end of England,
and now talking to a poor old
madman in a dressing-gown,
who seemed to think I was his
son, and told me quite as a
matter of course that I was

the heir to this great lonely
house, and to the curse which
he had brought upon it.

" Well, as far as I remember,
I slept all right that night,
though I had felt rather lost
and lonely as I undressed in a
vast cold room, and climbed
into a bed as big as a waggon.
It was bright daylight when I
awoke, and I saw by my watch
that it was half-past eight.
No one had called me, and I
was evidently expected to shift
for myself, so I dressed and
went downstairs, and set to
work to try and find the room
where we had sat the night
before. It was at the end of
what seemed interminable pas-
sages, narrow panelled warrens
in the old part of the house,
and I don't know how I found
it : however, I did at last, as I
recognised the three shallow
stairs which led up to the door
I had tripped over them the
previous evening. There was
no one in the room : in front
of the grate, still full of ashes,
was the old man's empty chair,
and his rug lying on the floor
Reside it. I rather wondered
what my next move should be,
and decided on a pull at the
bell. After about ten minutes
the old woman appeared, and
I asked for breakfast. 'The
Master's bad to-day,' she said,
1 come along to the kitchen
and I'll give you something : '
so I followed her, and in due
course ate my breakfast off a
chipped plate at the kitchen
table it struck me as a queer
way of doing things in a big
house : but after all the whole
adventure was so surprising
that I hardly knew what to
expect next. Breakfast fin-

1918.]

The Whistle.

311

ished, I was told that 'The
Master' wouldn't be up to-
day, but that I oould go out
and have a look round the
place I might have a sand-
wich in my pocket : evidently
I wasn't wanted about the
house !

"You may be sure that it
was with some interest and
excitement that I went out
that morning with a feeling
that I was, as it were, explor-
ing my new kingdom. But I
found it hard to realise that
all this the great house, the
garden, the Park, and for all I
knew more besides was really
going to be mine. I puzzled
over it as I walked how
were these things arranged?
Wouldn't there have to be
papers signed, and lawyers
and I should have to see my
cousin again and find out
more : but how was I going to
see him if he was ill? and I
wanted to go back to Liver-
pool the next day: it would
be extraordinarily hard to
take possession of a kingdom
in two nights and a day I

"It was with such thoughts
as these that I wandered
round the garden, down the
terraces, over lawns, through
walks, so that I thought I
should never come to the end
of it; then from the garden
I went into the Park, and
there I think I spent most of
the day wandering about, now
wondering at the beauty of it
all, now puzzling over the ex-
traordinary adventure that had
suddenly befallen me.
"I have got no very clear
recollection of what I did or
where I went, but the winter
evening was closing in when

at last I got back to the house,
and had my tea, like my break-
fast, at the kitchen table.

"After tea the old woman
asked me if I'd like to go to
the Master's room, and she
piloted me back through the
maze of passages to the little
room at the top of the stairs.
However, the Master was not
there, and it was my turn
now to sit in the tall chair
and cower over the fire. Going
over the day again in my mind,
the time slipped by without me
noticing it, and at seven o'clock
my supper was brought in; I
had no idea it was so late.
' Can I see the Master to-
night?' I said to the woman.
' No, you cannot,' she re-
plied. 'I told you before
he's bad to-day ; when you've
eaten that, you'd best go to
bed.' Queer hospitality was
this, I thought, and besides,
very inconvenient. I couldn't
go the next day without seeing
the old man ; it looked as if I
should have to stay on, and I
began to feel I didn't want to
at all, the whole position was
so grotesque and rather un-
canny : however, in the mean-
while, there was apparently
nothing to be done till to-
morrow, so I made the best
of it. I ate my supper and
sat over the fire for a bit,
and then, beginning to feel
sleepy, I thought I would take
the housekeeper's advice and
go to bed. The supper was
still on the table and the
lamp was alight, so I rang
the bell, thinking she would
want to come in and clear
up. But she was a long time
in coming, and I didn't see
why I should wait for her;

312

The Whistle.

[March

so turning the lamp down
and leaving the door open,
I set off down the passage
by the light of the open door.

"I didn't go far. As I
rounded the corner of the
passage I distinctly heard the
sound of voices. I stopped
and listened; the house had
been extraordinarily still all
the evening, and I knew there
was nobody about, yet from
out of the darkness ahead of
me came a murmur not just
the sound of two or three
people talking, but the oon-
fused murmur of many voices
rising and falling in the dark-
ness.

"Have you ever felt your
hair rise with horror? Well,
mine did then. I was fright-
ened, but nothing to what I
was a moment later. As I
stood there listening to the
voices with my hand against
the wooden panelling of the
passage, the air was suddenly
filled with a low booming
sound. I felt the wood be-
neath my hand vibrate, and
then my ears were filled with
the full thundering bass of
organ notes, which swelled
into a roar, seeming to shake
the walls beside me. It was
appalling. Before I had time
to think I found myself back-
ing slowly down the passage,
while the notes of the organ
sounded higher and sweeter as
they broke into a dirge -like
music. I heard a sound as
though many voices were
chanting in some vast lofty
building, yet I could touch
the walls of the narrow pas-
sage with both hands.

"I remember trying to per-
suade myself that it was some

trick, some horrible joke; but
I knew it wasn't. I knew all
the time it was something
worse, and my face was stream-
ing with sweat. I backed
down the passage till I felt
my heels against the lowest
of the three stairs; I simply
couldn't go any farther. I
sat down there on the stairs
and waited, trembling like a
leaf, staring into the gloom
ahead of me, and praying
that that awful organ would
stop.

" It stopped suddenly, just as
it had begun, and now I was
listening to one voice the
high-pitched quavering tones
echoing as if it were speak-
ing from a height above me
under some gigantic sound-
ing-board. The voice rolled
and reverberated through the
darkness ; the words, slow and
reverent, dawned upon my
consciousness they were Latin
. . . And as they ended
there was a silence, and then
again a murmur of voices re-
sponding. There was a scent
of incense in the air which
filled me with a sick giddi-
ness. I was still sitting on
the steps, still gazing into
the darkness, seeing nothing,
yet fascinated with a dread
of some awful sight. I heard,
and that was all; it was as
though all my senses were
concentrated in listening, and
then I heard; again there
was an echo, as in some vast
and lofty hall footsteps com-
ing towards me. In the dis-
tance they paused, then came
on again ; and I knew I could
not bear it. Shivering there
on the stairs, I hid my face
in my hands and waited. I

1918.]

The Whistle.

313

heard the footsteps oome on
again on my right, beyond
the passage wall, with a
strange slither and rattle.
They paused, and a voio
said : ' Kise, and go rever-
ently.' Then again the foot-
steps proceeded, with their
ghastly slither and click, a
few paces; and then again I
heard the voice in its sepul-
ohral tones : ' Arise, and go
reverently/ Again the same
thing happened, the footsteps
getting nearer and nearer. I
cowered against the wall, my
hands pressed tightly before my
eyes. Then I knew they had
reached me, and I heard the
voice again. 'Why are you
here?' it said; and for a mo-
ment there was silence.

"I think I tried to speak,
to answer, to say something;
but I was dumb dumb with
terror. And even as I strug-
gled with the feeling of horror,
of impotence and despair, a
grip of icy steel closed round
my wrists, dragging my hands
from my face.

" My God ! I didn't dare look
I didn't dare open my eyes !
but with a cry I threw myself
upon the unseen horror in
front of me. Then I fought
as no man ever fought in his
life before. I fought for life
and reason against the powers
of darkness. I felt myself
grasped round the shoulders
as if in a band of iron: I
rooked and swayed from side
to side, clawing and tearing
with my fingers, striving to
free myself from the ghastly
embrace, sobbing for breath
in the heavy tainted air. My
last recollections are of the
vice-like grip tightening round

me, my breath rattling in my
throat and a deadly, sickly

smell

" I suppose I must have done
the conventional thing and
fainted. The next thing I
remember is standing in the
dusty passage with the pale
light of the winter's morning
coming through the open door
behind me. For a few minutes
my mind was an absolute
blank. I couldn't think where
I was, or what I had been
doing ; and then I felt that I
was grasping something in my
left hand. I opened it, and
there in my open palm lay a
little bone, dry and hollow and
polished a man's finger-bone.
Good Lord ! I remembered
then!"

He was silent a moment,
and I noticed for the first time
that his face looked drawn and
old as he sat there hunched
forward in his chair with his
thin hands clasped round his
knees ; then he went on

"My hair's white now,
isn't it ? Well, it was as white
as it is now that morning forty
years ago when I stood in the
passage looking down at the
object in my hand. I remem-
bered it all suddenly, and
as suddenly horror and sick-
ness and sheer panic seized me.
I didn't stop long. In a minute
I was through the passage,
through the great hall, out of
the door, and running for my
life for the gates and the open
road beyond, with no thought
in my mind except to get away
to get away and never come
back.

"I can recollect nothing of
that mad flight it's all an ab-

314

solute blank I suppose I really
was unconscious ; the first
thing I remember was finding
myself in a railway carriage
with a big blue-coated man in
the doorway asking me for my
ticket. Of course I hadn't got
one, but mechanically I drew a
sovereign out of my waistcoat
pocket. * Where d'you. want
to go to?' he said. I didn't
know; I asked him how far
the train went, and when he
told me Bristol, I booked to
there. I forgot Liverpool, I
forgot my mother, I forgot
everything except that the
train was taking me far away
away from that place of horror.

"I've a hazy recollection of
the long journey mainly of
passing through the tunnels,
when I cowered in my corner and
prayed again for deliverance ;
and I remember a great noisy
station and streets I suppose
Bristol ; and how I found com-
fort in following people about
in the broad daylight good,
solid, tangible people with kind
faces. I was practically off
my head.

" How long I wandered like
that I don't know, but some
time in the evening I found my
way to the docks. I wondered
how I could face another night ;
I could feel the horror gradu-
ally closing over my mind again,
and I felt I must escape any-
thing to escape; nothing else
mattered.

" I was standing on the edge
of a quay looking down at the
oily water below and just mak-
ing up my mind for the jump,
when a voice behind me spoke :
'Don't stand there, matey,' it
aid ,' come into the warm and
have something.' s I can hear

The Whistle. [March

that voice still and see the
speaker a little pale - faced
man with a scar on his chin
as he took me by the arm and
led me off. And I shall never
forget, either, the comfort of
the blazing gas and the warmth
and the sound of voices in the
drink-shop, and the sting of
the cheap whisky. But that's
about all I do remember, and I
never saw my unknown bene-
factor again; he certainly
didn't know he was doing me a
good turn. . . .

"I woke up to find myself
lying on my back with a dirty
blanket over my mouth and a
wooden plank a foot above my
head. I couldn't move my
arms, I was wedged into a
narrow thing like a coffin with
a wall on my right. I turned
my head slowly to the left ; it
was a queer place I was in ; I
wondered why the wall oppo-
site curved and sloped upwards,
and what the sound of running
water was. And then it dawned
slowly on me I was on board
ship. Opposite, across the
gangway, a man sat on a locker
cutting tobacco. 'Where am
I ? ' I said to him. ' What am
I doing here?' 'Dunno,
mate,' he answered ; ' ask me
another ; you come aboard last
night carried aboard, drunk
as a lord ; anything wrong ? '
' But I don't know anything
about it,' I said 'I'm not a
sailor.' He put down his to-
bacco and broke into a wheezy
laugh. 'Oh,' he chuckled,
' caught young, was yer ? ' and
he spat; ' same as me Shang-
haied!'

"Yes, I had been Shang-
haied. My friend with the
soar on his chin had done

1918.]

The Whistle.

315

the triok well. Liquored me
up and got me aboard, and
here I was one of the orew of
the s.s. Cardiff City, nearly two
days out from Bristol, and
bound for Aden with a cargo
of ooal.

"I think my first sensation
was one of immense relief
feeling that I was free, had
escaped. But then I thought
of my mother, and realised
what I had done, I had left
her, left everything, and run
away what would she think
had become of me? How
should I explain my extra-
ordinary conduct?

" They worked me hard those
first days, and I hadn't too
much time to 'think: but the
more I realised what I had
done the more of a coward I
felt. I began to be able to
think of that awful night in
the lonely house, to go over it
carefully in my mind. Had it
been a ghost? what had I
seen? Nothing. I had heard
things, and I thought I could
remember that struggle in the
passage: but mightn't it have
been a dream, a real bad night-
mare ? I must have been tired,
I was certainly excited. I was
unsettled by the whole strange
adventure, and I had been
alone in the house: nothing
more natural but that I should
have dreamed, and the more
I argued it over with myself,
the more I considered the
strange fact that I had seen
nothing, the more I came to
the conclusion that it had been
an hallucination. And what
had I done? In a sudden fit
of panic, frightened like a child
at a bad dream, I had played
the coward: I had left my

mother and my home and my
work, I had left the great in-
heritance that had suddenly
become mine, all for nothing ;
and here I was, odd boy on a
dirty collier in the Bay of
Biscay, without a home, with-
out any clothes but those I
stood in, and without a penny
in the world and I was a
coward.

"However, [I had forgotten
one thing. I think it was on
the afternoon of the fourth
day out, I was leaning against
the engine-room hatch arguing
the whole thing out for the
hundredth time, till my head
went round and I felt I should
go mad; then as I sat there
and thought, I happened to
put my hand into the side-
pocket of my coat, and I felt
something there and pulled it
out it was the little bone.
For the second time there it
lay in my palm, hollow, pol-
ished, light as a feather : that
brought me up with a jerk.

"Why didn't I throw the
ghastly thing away? Why
didn't I fling it from me into
the sea and never look at it
again? Well, I hardly know,
but I didn't.

" You see, I felt it proved one
or two things: it proved that
I had not run away from a
dream; it proved that I had
really heard those slithering,
clicking footsteps; it proved
that I had really struggled
with something that night, and
had suffered and sobbed in
that horrible embrace. It had
really happened, and my an-
tagonist had left this ghastly
relic in my hand.

" At least, I know it was this
thought that though I shud-

316

The Whistle.

March

dered as I looked at it lying
there in my hand kept me
from throwing it from me. It
was a strange discovery. My
next feeling was one of relief;
if the happenings of that night
had really taken place, as I
was now persuaded they had,
I thanked God that I had
run away; I was no longer
ashamed. Every beat of the
screw, every mile we traversed,
made me happier, freer.

" Looking back on it all after-
wards, I could see that this
strange discovery, this strange
realisation, saved my reason
and saved my self - respect
gave my whole life a new
aspect. My mother well, I
could write and try and ex-
plain to her ; and for the rest,
I was glad to have left Eng-
land behind me, and the al-
most irresistible temptation,
which I felt I should have
suffered, of revisiting the
house which held such promises
for me and such unutterable
horrors. And I replaced the
bone, the skeleton's finger-
bone, in my pocket.

"I don't think I need de-
scribe to you my life aboard
that collier ; it was uneventful
enough a chronicle of bad
weather, bad food, bad quar-
ters, and hard work: the last
was probably the best thing
for me. I had no adventures :
we called at Marseilles, had
awful weather in the Gulf of
Lyons, a smooth passage to
Malta, then more bad weather
again, till at last one morning
in December we reached Port
Said. Here the ship was held
up for a couple of days, and for
the first time since that night
in Bristol I went ashore.

"Port Said was a different
place in those days; it's no
paradise now, but it was hell
then a dirty, stinking vil-
lage, the dregs of the East
and the dregs of the West.
It didn't take me long to find
out that my shipmates' tastes
and mine were not the same.
I left them pretty soon, and
wandered off on my own to
find the post-office, as I wanted
to post a letter I had written
to my mother. In the letter
I had explained my strange
behaviour as best I could. I
told of my reception by the
old cousin, and what he'd said
about making me his heir,
and I gave her an account
a garbled affair, I'm afraid
of that awful night, and how
I'd run away, and how it was
through no fault of my own
that I had gone to sea. But
I told her that I thought a
change would do me good
for a bit after all I'd gone
through, and that I proposed,
if she didn't mind, to stay
abroad for the next six months.
I gave my address 0/0 the
owners in Calcutta, and asked
her to be sure and write.

"Having posted this letter,
I wandered along the front
where the big hotel stands
now, and found plenty to in-
terest me in the strange faces
and strange colours new to my
eyes.

" There was a big troop-ship
waiting to go through the
canal, and as I stood there
some boats came off from her
full of officers and their ladies.
I watched them land, and for
some reason followed them at
a distance. Presently I saw
them stop in a little knot

1918.]

The Whistle.

317

under a tree; they were all
standing round something,
laughing and talking. I
strolled up to the group : in
the middle of an interested
oirole squatted a seedy-looking
Indian, who was offering to
tell the fortunes of the rather
reluctant spectators. Some-
how or other he happened to
catch sight of me on the out-
skirts of the erowd. I tried
not to catch his eye, but it was
too late; he stood up, 'Come,
sahib, come, sahib, I tell your
fortune,' he said, and the
whole crowd turned and stared
at me. They seemed amused
for some reason or other, and
a titter ran round the circle :
I suppose I must have looked
as silly as I felt, for a young
fellow, very smart in a white
topee, turned to me with a
kind smile: 'Go on,' he said,
'go on, lad, and have your
fortune told, and 111 stand it
you ' and he tossed the
Indian half-a-orown. Before
I realised what I was doing I
found myself in the centre of
the circle, confronted by the
fortune-teller. ' Give me some-
thing, sahib,' he said * any-
thing you wear, your knife
will do.' I knew I hadn't got
a knife on me, but I put my
hand in my pocket and pulled
out the only thing there; it
was the bone. I handed it
to him. 'You always carry
this?' he asked. I nodded,
and he squatted down on the
ground, holding the bone in
his hand. He sat there for a
minute staring at it, and then
rose slowly to his feet and
looked at me. 'It is good
luok, sahib,' he said 'good
luck, and happiness, and

riches.' He paused, and then
putting his finger against one
end of the bone he blew a
short sharp whistle. 'Hear,'
he said, ' hear, sahib ! that
shall call you home to for-
tune.' There was a roar of
laughter from the crowd as I
pocketed the bone and hurried
away.

" That night as I lay in my
narrow bunk I went over the
scene in my mind again and
again, repeating the fortune-
teller's words : I suppose I was
an imaginative sort of lad, and
the whole thing had impressed
me rather. He'd seemed so
certain of it all; he'd spoken
with such authority, rolling
his queer dark eyes at me
and then that sharp whistle !
I couldn't get the sound of it
out of my ears !

"Next day as we passed
slowly down the Canal I had
plenty of time to think. I
pulled the bone out of my
pocket and stared at it, and
wondered could it be possible
that it should bring me luck ?
Could there be some kind of
compensating justice, so that,
after having brought me to
such misery at home and
parted me from all I loved, it
should bring me fortune in
other lands? Then I remem-
bered how the Hindoo had
said, 'It shall call you home.'
I didn't think I could bring
myself to touch the thing with
my lips, but the memory of
that curlew-like whistle fasci-
nated me. I wondered if I
could do it, and after hesitat-
ing for a long time I plucked
up courage, and putting my
finger over the base of the
bone, I blew sharply across

318

The Whistle.

[March

the open end : there sounded a
shrill piercing whistle.

"I was standing on deck at
the time, just forward of the
bridge. The sound of this
whistle had scarcely died away
when I heard a voiee above me
shouting 'Port your helm
hard a-port,' and the engine-
room telegraph clanged be-
low. The ship swung off and
slowed down. Then I heard
the same voice cursing the
pilot, 'What the hell are
you aiming for Africa ? We'd
'a been on the mud that time
but for that whistle. Who
blew that whistle?'

"You see, it was the early
days of the Canal then, and
the channel was often ob-
structed siltage or what not ;
and it was particularly bad
through the Bitter Lakes.
Well, that was where we
were; and it happened that
we had been making straight
for a mud-bank when know-
ing nothing about it, of course
I blew that blast and unin-
tentionally gave the alarm and
saved the ship.

"The Master treated me well
over this: said he wouldn't
forget it, and would see the
owners heard of it, and a
good deal more besides. But
it wasn't that that counted ;
no it was that my good luck
had begun, that the fortune-
teller had been right. Nothing
would persuade me from it
now: this had been no co-
incidence.

" I well remember standing on
deck that evening looking out
over the desert. As I watched,
the setting sun lit up those
cliffs away on the right the
Abu Darraj I think they call

them touching them with
wonderful colours, amber and
gold and sapphire ; and as I
looked I felt that the gor-
geous sight was a happy
omen an augury of good
fortune in the East.

"As soon as we reached
Calcutta I got paid off. With
my wages in my pocket and
twenty pounds besides a re-
ward for the affair in the
Canal I felt rich; but I was
rather at a loss to know what
to do next. It was in Cal-
cutta that I came very near
to losing my precious talisman,
for so I regarded it now,
and I think it was this that
first gave me the idea of
having the bone turned into
a real whistle, so that I could
wear it on a lanyard. So I
took it to a native workman
in a bazaar, and he very soon
rigged it up for me: that
done, I somehow began to
think that things would begin
to move ; and sure enough
they did. A few days later
I shipped on board a vessel
bound for Rangoon ; from Ran-
goon I went down the coast
on another ship to Singapore,
and it was there, in the
Sailors' Home, that I got my
first news of England. I was
turning over an English paper
when a familiar name caught
my eye the name of the
house from which I had
run that early morning four
months ago, and the name of
my old cousin. It said little
enough about him except that
he was dead, but it gave a
long history and description
of the house; and then, quite
at the end of the paragraph,
mentioned that the estate

1918.]

The Whistle.

319

passed ' to a Mr James
Howard, a distant relation.'

" I think it took me a minute
or two to realise that this re-
ferred to me. However, it was
plain enough that it did
there was my name in black
and white; and here was the
owner of the name, sitting in
a dingy room in the Sailors'
Home at Singapore, wonder-
ing what he should do next.

" It seemed as if there wasn't
muoh to be done. There being
no money, it was obvious I
couldn't live there if I wanted
to though, of course, nothing
would have induced me to,
and I wasn't going back to
England just to look at the
place and sign a lot of papers.
I felt then that I never
wanted to see the house
again, and I determined to
let my affairs take care of
themselves. I wouldn't go
home for the sake of my in-
heritance.

" However, a few weeks later
a letter arrived from my mother
the first I had got which
rather modified my decision on
this score. The beginning of
the letter was taken up with
expressions of anxiety as to
my health, whereabouts, and
state of mind, with assurances
of her sympathy and under-
standing, and that sort of
thing; and then she went on
to tell me some of the news I
had already gleaned from the
paper. The old man had, it
appeared, written to her after
my sudden departure, merely
saying that he had seen me
and liked me, and decided to
leave his property to me as the
last of the family nothing
more. Three weeks afterwards

he was found dead in bed, and
on the examination of his will
and various other documents, it
was discovered that he'd been as
good as his word, and left the
house and park to me. My
mother had seen the solicitors,
had found that there was no
money, and had then and there
made arrangements for the
house to be let, though how it
was all fixed up I don't know.
But she ended her letter by
saying that as I had been away
six months now, and in view of
the change in my prospects,
she hoped I would give up the
rough life I was leading and
come home.

" After reading her letter, I
felt that I ought to fall in with
her wishes ; but that was easier
said than done, and I couldn't
get out of the job I was then do-
ing at very short notice : in the
end it was a full month before
I was ready. And then at the
last moment my plans were
changed. The day before I
was due to sail for England, I
got a letter to say that my
mother was dead.

"As I said, that changed
my plans ; there was noth-
ing to go home for now; as
for my property, the very
thought of it made me sick.
I felt that I couldn't face
England.

" Well, I had come East, and
I stayed East nearly forty
years.

"At first, quite at first,
things didn't go well ; for the
next six months (after I had
heard of my mother's death) I
hung about doing odd jobs here
and there, and that's no life
for an Englishman in the East.
Then I got a berth aboard

320

The Whistle.

[March

a small vessel in the coast-
ing trade, running to Borneo
and Labuan ; but somehow I
couldn't do right, and I got
the sack pretty soon. Life
looked bad for me in those
days, and I shan't forget it,
and I shan't forget what put
it right either. It was the
afternoon of the day I got the
sack from the coaster I men-
tioned. I was walking down
the middle of the street, and it
was blazing hot, so I stepped
under a tree for a bit of a rest.
As I leant up against the tree
trunk I heard something in
the branches above me, and
looking up I saw a bird with a
long beak : I must have fright-
ened it, for it gave a piping
whistle and flew off. That
bird's note did the trick ! Why ?
Why, because it reminded me
of my blessed whistle, and I
realised all of a sudden that
I hadn't worn the thing for
months.

"I just stopped for a minute
to think what an infernal fool
I'd been, and then I turned
round and walked straight
back down the middle of that
blazing road, with my headwp
this time straight back to the
quay where my chest had been
dumped that morning when I
got the sack off the ship. I
knelt down, unlocked my chest,
and took the whistle out; then
I went straight off down town
and applied for a clerk's job,
which I knew was open at a
big merchant's. I knew I
should get the job, and sure
enough I did.

" Well, from that very day I
went ahead and never looked
back: I climbed all the time.
One job led to another, first

as a clerk in the office, then
running a tobacco plantation
in Borneo one of the first ;
then in the sago trade; then
travelling inspector of my
firm's interests in Borneo,
Labuan, and the Celebes; fin-
ally, twenty -five years later,
partner in the business. Nearly
forty years in the East, one
rise after another; one stroke
of good luck after another, and
finally a fortune. It's a long
story, and there are many ad-
ventures queer things I've
seen and queer things I've
done; it's altogether too long
a story : but day and night
for those forty years that little
whistle was my companion :
time and again it helped me
and in the end it called me
home to happiness.

" When I'd made my pile two
years ago I retired and came
home to England: rightly or
wrongly I felt that under the
mysterious influence of my
talisman I had made my for-
tune, and something forced me
to put it to this last test. It
had brought me fortune ; could
it bring me home and happi-
ness?

" During my years of exile I
had got almost completely out
of touch with England, the
only communications I ever
had from home were business
letters from the estate's agents
about the house. I think
perhaps it was because of this
because, I mean, the house
had as it were served as my
only link with the home coun-
try that I had come by
degrees to look upon it with
something nearer to affection
and sentiment than I had ever
thought possible. But of course

1918.] The Whistle. 321

I knew little about it ; the those horrible memories that I

letters told me that it was let had once connected with the

or that it was empty and gen- place ; and then suddenly, as

erally mentioned that it was I stood before the house that

urgently in need of repairs. I summer afternoon, they came

had tried to sell it, but it was upon me again with alJ their

unsaleable : I didn't much care old strength, in all their ghastly

one way or the other except, horror. I simply felt I couldn't

as I say, it had served as a face it.
link. " And then quickly following

" When I landed in England on that feeling came another

eighteen months ago I was to a feeling that I would face

all intents and purposes in a it, a determination not to be

foreign country ; I didn't know beaten, not to give up. I

the ways of the people, I didn't meant to make that house my

know the lie of the land, I home, to restore its ruined

hadn't got a single acquaint- beauty, to build up the old

anoe, but I had to go to Lon- place again. I resolved there

don on business, and I thought and then that this should be

I might as well make a start the object of my life,
there as anywhere. Affairs " I won't make a mystery of

connected with my firm took it any longer I expect you've

up two or three days, and then guessed it already ; I am old

I determined to go round to Sir John's heir, and Long

my solicitors and find out Combe was the object of my

something definite about my ambitions,
property. " Well, you know most of the

" I suppose it was a queer story, but some of it you don't

casual way of doing things ; know. I travelled back to

anyway they didn't seem too London that evening deter-

ready to believe my story, and mined to carry out the resolve

I had some trouble in estab- that I had made as I stood

lishing my identity. But that there before the house, but I

once accomplished, they were knew there were difficulties.

civil enough, and gave me full I realised that it might be

information: they told me, impossible. You see, I had

what I already knew, that the understood for the first time

house had been unlet for sev- that afternoon that expression

eral years, and was in a very used by Sir John forty years

bad state; but when I asked before when he had mumbled

them how much they oonsid- about there being * a curse on

ered it would cost to put it the place.' The place oer-

right, they advised me to go tainly looked as if it were

down and have a look round under some evil influence,

myself. So the next day I the garden overgrown and

went. rank, the exterior of the house

" It's a queer thing, but I weather - stained and dilapi-
think, for the last twenty dated a general look of cheer-
years at least, I had forgotten lessnesa everywhere.

VOL. CCIII. NO. MCCXXIX. X

322

The Whistle.

[Mareh

" But it wasn't enly that. I
had gone into the house, and
there it wasn't so much what I
saw that mattered ; it was what
I felt. I don't think I oan ex-
plain it in words, but I knew
at onoe that there was some-
thing wrong. I felt the pres-
ence of evil everywhere, all
round me, and I understood
beyond all doubt that what-
ever it was I had seen that
night forty years ago still
had power over the house
or over me; and I had
to settle with that before
Long Combe oould be my
home.

" But I didn't want any one
to know my secret, and I
wasn't going to take any
risks.

" I oame down from London
for the day several times, to
learn my way about and to
get to know something of the
neighbourhood; I wanted to
know what the people who
lived round about were like,
and what sort of chances
I should stand as a new-
comer.

" Then in the autumn I took
rooms in the inn at Combe
and got to work. For the
first month or two you didn't
see much of me, and not much
wonder, for I spent most of
my time hidden away in Long
Combe experimenting. Day
after day I went out ostensibly
for long walks, but really to
slip by a back entrance into
the house. But it was always
the same ; wherever I went in
the house there was that feel-
ing of horror the feeling that
seme invisible presence was
always beside me. I tried day
after day, and night after

night, always with the same
results, until I was nearly in
despair and dreaded going
near the place; and yet I
couldn't bear the idea of giv-
ing it up.

"It was the beginning of
November when my luck
turned. I had grown tired of
my idle brooding life, and feel-
ing that I must do something
active to keep sane, I bought a
couple of horses. I knew I
shouldn't disgrace myself by
bad horsemanship, but I wasn't
so sure how I should get on in
the hunting-field.

"Well, I think you will re-
member the occasion the open-
ing day when I holloaed the fox
away on my whistle and we
had such a good hunt. It was
that that put new hope into
me, and, what's more, gave me
an idea. Suddenly it struck
me as I rode home that evening
that the little bone might hold
the solution to the mystery.
But how exactly I couldn't de-
cide. I puzzled over it for
weeks; I tried everything, I
tried sounding my whistle
in every room in the house, in
every passage ; I sat on those
same stairs all one night, hop-
ing and fearing some strange
explanation, but whether I
wore the whistle or whether I
didn't it was always the same ;
I saw nothing, but I felt and
knew it might all happen again.
I was very near giving the
problem up when I thought
there was just one more thing
to try.

"The whistle was a man's
bone, the finger-bone of a skele-
ton. Did the thing with which
I had fought that night long
ago, which had left this relic

1918,]

The Whistle.

323

in my grasp then, require its
return ? It seemed an absurd
idea, but I made up my mind
to try it.

"That night I took the
whistle and left it on the
stairs; the next morning it
had gone. I have never seen
it again.

" I spent all the day in the
house ; I wandered from oellar
to atfeio, I sat in every room, I
stood in every passage, and I
was alone for the first time I
felt alone; there was no one
near me; there was no-
body standing just behind me ;
there was nothing lurking
round the next corner, except
for me the house was empty.
That feeling of imminent un-
seen danger had gone, and in
its place there was a strange
atmosphere of freshness, of
awakening, such as meets one
on an early morning walk in
the country the scent of green
things and the breath of the
wind. I noticed for the first
time a ray of golden sunlight
in the dusty passages, and a
thrush's song came floating in
through the open window.
There was no doubt about it
that day, but I wasn't sure I
had succeeded as yet.

"I went there day after day,
I wandered about there at
night, in the house, in the
garden, all round the place :
noihing happened, and I be-
came reassured. Then I lived
in the house alone for three
weeks. I had some bad mo-
ments; one night when the
wind boomed in the chimney
I thought it was that cursed
organ again, and I shall never
forget how relieved I was when
I found out it was only the

wind : you see it meant a
tremendous lot to me.

"That three weeks' trial
pretty well decided me, so I let
out that I had taken the house
for a year. But it took me a long
time to be certain ; I had awful
days and nights when I felt
that the evil was only playing
with me, and that when I was
settled down here it would
haunt me again; and there
were times, too, when I felt
that something must go wrong
now that I had parted with
my whistle.

" But nothing went wrong.
On the contrary, I was get-
ting on extraordinarily well:
I liked the country, I felt at
home as I never expected to :
you had all become good
friends to me, and I realised,
as I thought it all over, that
I had the happiness that I had
so long dreamed of waiting
for me.

" I realised this first, I think,
that night when I gave the
house-warming party. Then I
went ahead : I knew I had won.
There is not much more to
tell you : you have heard this
long strange story of mine,
which must be hard enough
for you to believe but you
have seen Long Combe, dead
these forty years, come to life
again before your eyes.

" I don't know if it'll remain
alive, but I am pretty sure
that it will, for I believe that
fortune-teller under the tree
at Port Said spoke the truth :
you see I've made my money,
I found my home, and now I
have got happiness and those
were the three things he pro-
mised me."

EL HAMRAN.

324

[March

BEHO CHINI.

"Yau da gobe kayan Allah" "To-day and to-morrow are God's possession."

Hausa Proverb.

OUR oonoentration was com-
plete. The last battalion of
the Nigerian Brigade was
moving into the camp. With
many sighs and grunts the
black soldiery threw off their
equipment beside their piled
arms, and on the flanks of
the companies the machine-
gun teams wiped the dust
of the road from their guns.
A little apart stood a group
of officers picking out their
loads, as a seemingly end-
less string of carriers filed in
with the battalion baggage.
Beyond the fact that they had
arrived in time for the much-
talked - of General Offensive,
they knew nothing of what
part in the operations they
were to take. No. 1 Company's
Commander gave some orders
to his subalterns, and strolled
off to a neighbouring camp in
search of food and enlighten-
ment on the situation. In
East Africa, where transport
so often failed and orders were
cancelled as soon as issued,
both food and enlightenment
were sometimes hard enough
to come by. Our Company
Commander returned with a
modicum of vague information,
and was eagerly questioned
by his subalterns.

"We are off again early
to - morrow," he answered.
"The Brigade is going some-
where out into the blue to sit

down on the Hun's line of
eommunioation. It is a matter
of four days through the bush.
In two days' time the other
columns are to advance and
push the enemy back on to us.
Unless the Hun has suddenly
become a very much greater
fool than formerly, there is not
much prospect of our getting
behind him. There appear to
be no maps, no transport, and
no water, and the bush is
crawling with Huns, who have
got their tails up since the
last show. Their main body
is said to be shrieking defiance
from prepared positions. It
any way looks a little as if
they meant to fight at last, so
let us hope we shall give them
a knock this time. If only we
could get at the devils, and

finish the show " He sighed,

and sent an orderly to call the
Company Sergeant-Major.

In the company lines the
Sergeant-Major was endeavour-
ing to instil a little energy into
his fellow black men. Half the
company were falling in for
water -fatigue, while the rest
slunk off into the surrounding
bush in search of sticks and
grass to build a house for their
officers. A band of martyrs
going to the stake could hardly
be a less cheerful spectacle than
a company of tired black men
falling in for fatigue. The
Sergeant-Major, 1 who wore the

1 In the subsequent action at Beho Chini the Sergeant-Major had his jaw
blown away by one of the fiendish elephant rifles so often used by the Germans
in East Africa. On admission to hospital, he much amazed the doctors by
habitually smoking cigarettes through his nose.

1918.]

Beho Chini.

325

African General Service Medal,
was eminently soldierly in ap-
pearance, and took a great
pride in what he called his
company. He was a Hausa-
speaking native from the region
of Lake Chad, where, by his
own confession, he had spent
the early and not least profit-
able years of his life as a
highwayman, armed with bow
and poisoned arrows. With
the advent of the British, he
was compelled to change his
ways, and judiciously elected
to pursue the profession of
arms in the highly respect-
able ranks of the Nigeria
Regiment. His ivory - black
cheeks were grooved with the
soars of his tribal marks, which
radiated transversely from the
corners of the mouth towards
the ears. He wore the green
cap of the W.A.F.F. soldier,
a khaki blouse, shorts, puttees,
and a pair of ammunition
boots. Of these last he was
intensely proud, for, with the
exception of himself and the
four sergeants of the company,
no soldiers were allowed to
wear boots. Earlier in the
campaign a number of men
were given service boots as
an experiment; but as the
black man's idea of a com-
fortable boot is to have as
large a size as possible, our
men were very difficult to fit.
To find a man wearing his
boots on the wrong feet was
not unusual, and his proud
boast would be that he wore
a larger size than the other
men in his section. The ex-
periment was not considered
a success, and, except for the
senior N.C.O.'s, sandals were
given back to the men. Orig-

inally a great deal of trouble
was experienced in fitting out
the Nigeria Regiment with the
webbing equipment worn by
Tommy Atkins. The adjust-
ment of belts was the difficulty.
The black man in barracks
eats an enormous meal at
midday. Owing to some ana-
tomical irregularity this bulky
meal subsequently protrudes
prominently just where the
belt is made to fasten. Those
who are acquainted with the
intricacies of webbing equip-
ment will readily understand
how this feature of the black
man would throw the whole
outfit out of gear. Thus
between the morning and
afternoon parades an elabo-
rate adjustment became neces-
sary, and it took some time
for the men to master the
intricacies of their new equip-
ment.

The Sergeant -Major saluted,
and his Company Commander
proceeded to deliver in Hausa
a version of the situation such
as could be understood by
the rank and file of the
company.

"To - morrow, Sergeant-
Major," he began, "we all go
to a big war. This country
is not like the Big River,
where we marched and starved,
and the floods brought us
sickness, and we found no
Germans. The bush here is
full of Germans, and with
them we are going to have
a big battle. To-morrow we
march early and go a long, long
way, and the road is without
water. In the evening we
shall come to a place where
there is water. They say
there are Germans at the

326

Beho Chini.

[March

water-place. If it is so, we
shall have to fight for our
water. Therefore no man is
to drink on the march. Tell
the company that the man
who drinks shall be beaten.
If any man reports sick, he
too shall be beaten. We have
lost many men, and now every
man must fight, for the bush
is full of Germans."

The Sergeant-Major beamed
with approval, and cleared his
throat before giving his own
somewhat long-winded views
on the situation.

"It is good," he said, "for
we have been in this country
a long, long time, and it is a
bad country. There is no food,
and there are no women.
Therefore we must kill all
the Germans. When we have
killed the last German, then
shall we go back to our
country and to our women.
For months, as you yourself
have said, we have marched
and starved, and the Germans
fled before us, so that we could
not kill them. Now, you say,
we have come to the place
where all the Germans live,
and we shall have a big battle.
Some of our men will die,
but that is a good thing.
Unless some men die we shall
go back to our country and
our women will laugh and
say, 'You went to a far, far
country to kill Germans, but
you found none.' It is for
Allah to say who will die, and
the greater the number that
are killed the greater will be
the glory of those who return
to our country. We shall tell
our women how many Germans
we killed, and we shall become
big men in our country."

The Company Commander
smiled approvingly, for he knew
that black soldiers, like hounds,
will not hunt without blood.
Presently the Sergeant-Major
returned, and proudly announc-
ing that he had brought a
present, produced a ram's horn
strung on a leather thong.

"I give you this," he said,
"because it is great medicine.
You will wear this round your
neck, and when the Germans
surround you you will seize a
dead stick with your left hand,
whereupon, so great is the
power of my present, you will
become invisible to your
enemies."

The Company Commander
had already received charms
of a similar nature, but they
were merely supposed to render
the wearer proof against bullets.
Thus the man who wears a
tiny piece of chain armour
about his person is popularly
supposed to be immune against
machine-gun fire. The Com-
pany Commander, however,
thanked his Sergeant -Major,
and, perhaps rather tactlessly,
asked how it was a certain
officer who was supposed to
possess an exceptionally effica-
cious charm had recently been
killed. But the black man is
not so easily to be caught out
in his beliefs.

"It was a truly wonderful
thing," he explained with pro-
found sincerity; "we marvelled
that he died, for his was indeed
a great charm. It can only be
that the man who fired the
shot which killed him must
have had an even more wonder-
ful medicine. That will never
happen to you, for there can
be no more powerful eharm

1918.]

Beho Chini.

327

than this ram's horn which I
have givenyou." The Sergeant-
Major saluted and went away
well satisfied, though he lived
to be sadly disillusioned.
>
In the chilly darkness of the
following morning the company
moved out as advance-guard to
the column. No one likes
advance - guard work in the
bush. It is usually a matter
of following a narrow track
which threads its way through
the eternal bush. The country
never changes. The same trees
and grass and undulations are
repeated day after day, and
one camp is so much like
another that the memory fails
to count the nights by which
the march is measured. Here
and there the bush varies in
thickness, and with it the field
of fire ranges from fifty up to
not more than three hundred
or four hundred yards. In
every way the country lends
itself to attack by ambush
against troops on the march.
Till roads can be out the bush
forbids the use of any but
human transport, and a column
must move in single file with
all its impedimenta carried on
men's heads. The most elabo-
rate precautions minimise the
chance of surprise attack, but
can never eliminate it. The
defence of the column lies
principally with the advance-
guard. In front of everything
comes a screen of scouts thrown
out on either side of the road,
and covering a broad front.
The scouts are followed at an
interval of three hundred to
four hundred yards by a "point"
of four men ; behind them comes
a supporting section with a

machine-gun, and out in the
bush on each flank are two
more sections all moving in
single file. The density of the
bush decides the distance these
sections keep out, but no matter
the character of the country,
the flanking sections must keep
pace with the section on the
road, remaining as far out as
possible. Occasionally detours
must be made to avoid im-
penetrable thorn, but at all
costs they must keep in touch.
Than to get "bushed" there
is no greater sin. Behind the
three sections moving abreast
come the rest of the advance-
guard company. At an interval
of several hundred yards is the
head of the main body, which
may cover several miles of road.
Besides the infantry battalions
there is the battery with its
guns carried in sections on
men's heads. Behind comes the
ammunition reserve, the field
ambulances with a vast number
of medical loads and the sick
in hammocks, and then the
baggage. Last of all come the
Pioneer Company, who cut out
the road as they advance so
that the column maybe followed
up and fed by the Mechanical
Transport. To the rearguard
falls much unpleasant work.
No man may be left out in the
bush; sick porters and their
loads must all be got forward
somehow. In such a column
a large percentage of the men
are unarmed carriers, and there
is probably no more vulnerable
thing in war than a large body
of troops marching through the
African bush.

Thus we toiled through the
day, and at every halt cursed
the sun and the bush, for the

328

Beho Chini.

[March

trees were without leaves and
there was no shade. In the
middle of the afternoon the
oolumn oame to a sudden halt.
The scouts reported a village
and banana -trees ahead, so
doubtless we had reached the
water. The scouts crept for-
ward cautiously, skirting the
village to either flank, and
from the depths of the bush
watched for the slightest move-
ment amongst the grass-roofed
huts. Having satisfied himself
that the village was deserted,
the scout corporal posted a
picket over the small and very
muddy water -hole, and oame
back to report all clear. The
Company Commander reported
to his C.O., and marvelled that
for once the enemy had failed
to picket the water. We were
already on the flank of the
enemy's positions, which lay
half a day's march to the
east, and the prospect of our
enterprise being successful ap-
peared more hopeful.

The surrounding bush was
picketed, and the column
moved into the village, com-
pressing its great length into
a surprisingly small area. A
perimeter trench was dug,
fires were lit, and rations
issued. The advance - guard
company became the inlying
picket, and the men rejoiced
that for once they could sit
idle and watch their fellow
black men dig trenches. As
darkness fell the fires were
stamped out, and the snores
and grunts of sleeping black
men were punctuated by the
dismal howl of the jackal and
the fiendish shrieks of the
hyena. Except for the relief

of sentries, the camp was with-
out movement. As the dark
hours passed the air became
damp and chilly. A man in
the inlying picket got up and
woke the two beside him. All
three scratched themselves,
grunted, and shook their blan-
kets vigorously. The shrouded
forms of their companions soon
began to wriggle desperately,
and one after another they got
up, shook their blankets, and
moved off in search of a
better sleeping - place. Their
officers lay a little apart,
sheltered by a thick patch of
bush; but they were not to
be spared. The Company Com-
mander was already dimly con-
scious of intense discomfort.
He scratched his neck, and a
hard black object wriggled
beneath his fingers; he found
his hair was full of them.
Waking his subalterns he
dashed into the open. "Get
outl" he cried; "the place is
full of drivers." And as the
horrible truth dawned, each
fled from his blanket as a
thing unclean.

No mention is made of
drivers as one of the plagues
of Egypt, wherefore it may
be deemed a favoured coun-
try. Drivers or safari ants,
as they are called in East
Africa are large and black,
and on their enormous plated
heads they carry a formidable
pair of nippers. Moving about
the country in dense columns,
they drive every living thing
before them. The bites of
half a dozen drivers are not
usually sufficient to wake a
sleeping man, so the unfortu-
nate individual does not be-

1918.]

Beho Chini.

829

oome conscious of his plight
till his body swarms with
these offensive pests. They
are no respecter of persons,
and hold nothing sacred.
Should they incontinently en-
ter the oouoh of the Governor
of a Colony, His Excellency
must needs retire with all
possible grace till the invad-
ing hordes have passed right
through Government House.

With daylight came the
sound of distant gun fire,
and the Mechanical Transport
brought us three days'
rations.

" Hope you found our road
a]J right," said the Pioneer
Officer as he met the sub-
altern who had brought in
the convoy. The latter asked
What road? and talked of
burst tyres and things left
by the wayside. He regretted
his rudeness when afterwards
he learnt that the Pioneer
Officer habitually sat down
to a four -course dinner, and
was the only man in the
column who could afford to
turn up his nose at the rum
ration. The Pioneer Company
lacked " establishment," where-
fore the indent for its carriers
was only limited by the per-
sonal possessions and luxurious
habits of its officers. As the
M.T. Officer never came back,
our limited supplies only per-
mitted a further advance to
be made with two battalions.

Two evenings later we found
ourselves at a place which our
map called " Water by dig-
ging."

"What about water?"
shouted the Company Com-

mander as the Adjutant
passed.

" Company arrangements.
Dig your own hole. It won't
be more than twelve feet. No
fires. No. 3 Company moves
out to-night, and the rest of
us at 4 A.M."

We had but four miles to
go before placing ourselves
astride the enemy's road.
News had been received that
after heavy fighting the other
columns had driven the enemy
from their positions, and were
advancing slowly. The at-
mosphere of the camp had
changed. We were now in
the heart of the enemy's coun-
try, and as yet, we believed,
undiscovered ; but momentarily
every officer feared a disclosure
of our advance, and the conse-
quent failure of our enterprise.
Shortly after dark a bush fire
burst into flame just outside
the outpost line. That it was
a signal to the enemy few of
us doubted. A sentry fired,
and all ears strained for the
answering " pliok-plook " of a
German bullet, but the silence
was only broken by the crash
of a frightened bush pig.

Early the following morning
we came up with No. 3 Com-
pany at a village called Beho
Chini, where they were already
engaging an enemy patrol
which was watching the water-
hole. Beho Chini was a mere
clearing in a belt of fairly
thick bush. Besides a small
water-hole, there were half a
dozen tumble-down native huts
amid the relics of former culti-
vation, upon which the sur-
rounding bush was fast en-
croaching. No. 3 Company's

330

Commander reported snipers in
trees, and ordered his machine-
guns to search the bush. A
heavy object fell from a tree
like a ripe apple, and the black
gun teams laughed. The snip-
ing ceased, and our column
moved up into the clearing
under cover of a screen of
scouts. There was at first
some doubt as to whether we
were actually on the enemy's
road. Beyond a well - worn
bush path coming in from
the east, there was no indi-
cation that we had reached
the place appointed. Orders
were issued, however, for a
perimeter trench to be dug,
but at the same time we were
given to understand that an
immediate advance would prob-
ably be made. In consequence
of this, no great importance
was attached to the digging
of trenches, with the result
that along the greater part
of the line mere " scrapes "
were made, and the defences
throughout were f a most
superficial nature. The area
enclosed by the perimeter
amounted to about twenty-
five acres, thus giving an
excessive length of trench to
be defended by the thousand
rifles, which was the total
strength of the two battalions.
Moreover, the ground being
almost flat, there was no
protection against reverse fire,
and no cover within the peri-
meter for the staff, medical
sections, and camp-followers.

An officer's patrol was or-
dered to follow the path along
which the enemy patrol had
retired. Before he had gone
400 yards the officer was fired

Beho Chini. [March

upon from what appeared to be
a prepared position. The Gen-
eral ordered two companies to
attack and drive the enemy
out. These orders were almost
immediately cancelled owing
to a most fortunate circum-
stance. One of our aeroplanes
made a sudden and very un-
expected appearance. Flying
low, it circled above our peri-
meter and glided away in the
direction of the enemy. It at
once came under a very heavy
fire. That the enemy were in
greater strength than had
been supposed now became
apparent.

The General at once ordered
all baggage, officers' boys and
other followers, to return to
our camp of the previous night
under a small escort. They
left at once, but before going
very far met two German
white men wandering about
the bush with sixty porters
carrying ammunition without
an escort. They were cap-
tured by the officer in charge
of our baggage without a shot
being fired. He was prevented
from reaching our former camp
and had to return. Much of
the captured ammunition was
British, and if it had not been
for this unexpected addition to
our supply it is very doubtful
whether many of us would
have survived the ensuing ac-
tion where the enemy drew off
at the same time as our ammu-
nition became all but exhausted.

Meanwhile orders had been
received to reconnoitre the
enemy position. Our Company
Commander called his subal-
terns : " Come on, you fellows.
We are for it this time. The

1918.] Beho Chini.

usual formation : scouts in
front and a section in the bush
on each flank, and for God's
sake keep touch and watoh for
signals. Keep in single file
till you get orders. No. 3 Com-
pany is coming out in support
echeloned to our right rear."
The sniping suddenly recom-
menced, as if to remind us that
the enemy were prepared, and
that we had better be careful.
As soon as the Company could
get into the correct forma-
tion the order to advance was
given, and we dived into the
bush. We had not gone more
than two hundred yards when
the bush echoed the fiendish
strains of the enemy bugles
always used to urge their
men in an attack. We then
saw a company of askari ad-
vancing upon us, shoulder to
shoulder, with their bayonets
fixed. Their formation was
opportune, for we at once
brought four machine - guns
into action. No. 3 Company
also became engaged, and a hot
fire fight developed. We after-
wards learnt from prisoners
that our assailants were the
famous No. 17 Company of
Sturmtruppen, who had been
ordered to drive from the road
a British patrol who were ob-
structing the retirement of the
German main body. The
Sturmtruppen were rudely dis-
illusioned, and from all accounts
practically ceased to exist.
They were supported, however,
by the equally famous "W"
Company, entirely recruited
from the warlike Wangoni
tribe, and, like No. 17 Com-
pany, only used in the assault
or in an emergency. From

331

1.30 P.M. till 4 P.M. we held
our ground, but by then our
flanks were so much threat-
ened by the reinforcements
which the enemy had brought
up in great numbers, that a
retirement to our trench line
became imperative, and was
only now effected with some
difficulty.

As the last of us reached the
trench line, an old gun-carrier
who had seen many years' ser-
vice with the regiment dashed
up to his Company Commander
and said he must go back
and fetch his gumo (a gumo is
the straw pad which the Hausa
carrier wears on his head when
carrying a load). Now the
gumo is entirely without value,
and can be replaced at any
moment; moreover, we were
under a very heavy cross fire
from the enemy's machine-
guns which were covering
their advancing askari. As
illustrating the entire lack of
imagination, which is not an
unusual trait of the black man,
the incident is not without
interest. Having asked per-
mission to go baok into the
open for his wretched gumo,
the carrier never waited for
the inevitable refusal, but
dashed back over the two
hundred yards of open fire-
swept zone, and returned safely.
In an action the enlisted gun-
carriers and stretcher-bearers
usually shine forth as black
men at their best. They rank
below a private, and are looked
down upon by the soldiers, and
are therefore usually unspoilt.
They are unarmed except for
a matohett, and are seldom
able to strike a blow for them-

332

Beho Chini.

[March

selves, though a gun-oarrier
has often been known to take
up the rifle of a wounded man ;
while in the open the carriers
who were not filling belts
dashed up and down the line,
cheering on the men and dis-
tributing ammunition. The
stretcher-bearers walked about
looking for wounded, as if in
search of firewood around their
peaceful native houses.

By 5 P.M. the whole peri-
meter was engaged, and a
succession of very determined
assaults were made on our
weak and thinly held defences,
which were now completely
surrounded. All ranks were
amazed by the gallantry dis-
played by the enemy in these
attacks. Both white men and
black appeared to be entire-
ly without fear, and charged
repeatedly quite regardless
of our machine - guns. The
defenders were considerably
handicapped by the bush, for
in an attack it was sometimes
impossible to see the enemy
before they were within twenty
yards of our trench line. The
enemy bugles continued at
frequent intervals to sound
their discordant notes. The
red flag of the German Com-
mander could be seen bobbing
about in the bush as he passed
round our perimeter. He was
either a very brave or very
foolish man, for his flag un-
doubtedly drew our fire. His
appearance in the line seemed
to signalise a determined
attack. Our perimeter was
actually entered by a small
party of the enemy, but they
were all killed or taken pris-
oner. At one point six askari

appeared close to our trenches,
being flogged forward by a
white Hun armed with a
ballala. Elsewhere it seemed
as if they needed little enough
inducement to come forward.
That most of the askari were
" doped " is probable, for alco-
hol was found in the water-
bottles of the enemy dead and
wounded. One of our ser-
geants, seeing a small party
of the enemy advancing to-
wards him, became seized with
a fanatical thirst for blood.
Regardless of all orders and
the conventions of war, he leapt
from the trench line and hurled
himself single-handed against
the advancing askari. He
eventually returned with three
German rifles and a bayonet
wound in the left arm. Our
General, too, took an active
part in the defence of a weakly
held section of the line. He
is popularly supposed to have
led his staff into the trenches
armed with a white sun um-
brella in one hand and rifle in
the other.

We had already paid heavily
for the inadequacy of our
trenches. Being without para-
dos, the troops in the firing
line suffered considerably from
reverse fire. During the action
there was no opportunity of
increasing the depth of our
trenches, as every rifle was
needed to repel the repeated
attacks ; nor was it possible to
relieve the congestion caused
by dead and wounded men.
The plight of the wounded
who managed to reach the
dressing -station, caused them
to wish themselves back in the
comparative safety of the

1918.]

Beho Chini.

333

shallow trenches, for within
the perimeter the almost level
ground afforded no protection
against fire, which came from
every quarter. The medical
section had to carry on their
work without any cover at all.
Some protection was afforded
the wounded by placing the
officers' baggage around them.
The camp-followers developed
an amazing capacity for bur-
rowing, and with knives and
hands they excavated most
efficient dug-outs, and there
they lay trembling lest the
enemy should enter our peri-
meter.

It was not long before press-
ing messages were passed
round the line to be sparing
in the use of ammunition.
These were repeated with
great urgency, and still the
enemy never wearied of suc-
cessive attacks on our weakly
held defences. Where it was
of the utmost necessity to im-
press on all ranks the vital
importance of economising in
ammunition, it was inevitable
that the natural anxiety of the
officers should, to some extent,
communicate itself to the men.
The black soldier in action is
ever prodigal of ammunition,
and will continue firing at
nothing almost indefinitely.
But on this occasion the fire
discipline of our men could not
have been bettered by white
troops. By restricting the fire
to volleys a great economy
was effected, and, to the infin-
ite credit of the black soldier,
hardly a shot was fired with-
out an order from a European.
All ranks realised that with
the exhaustion of our ammuni-

tion the only appeal could be
to oar bayonets, in which case
there could no longer be any
doubt as to the issue of this
engagement, in which we were
completely surrounded by the
enemy. One of our Company
Commanders led his men in a
bayonet charge against the
enemy. This bold and timely
counter - attack probably did
much to relieve the pressure
elsewhere.

At a little before 8 P.M.,
when only a few rounds per
man remained, the enemy's
fire slackened and subsequent-
ly dwindled to promiscuous
sniping, which we were for-
tunately able to ignore. There
was now time to take the
ammunition off the dead and
wounded and distribute our
meagre supply evenly along
the trench line. Meanwhile
every man sat with his bayonet
ready for the sudden rush
which we felt would be at-
tempted sooner or later. At
about 10.30 P.M. the enemy
again opened fire and made
a determined attack on one
portion of the line. They were
driven off, and by midnight all
was again quiet except for the
fire of a few enemy snipers.
Our conjecture that the last
attack was made by a com-
pany left behind to cover the
retirement of the enemy main
body was borne out by the
faint sound of pick and shovel
as they buried their dead, a
proceeding to which they at-
tached great importance. More
gruesome still were the shrieks
and groans of their wounded
aakari being dragged out of
action. To the Germans it

334

Beho Chini.

[March

was of the utmost importance
to retain as long as possible
the services of their old sol-
diers. To this end they evolved
a marvellously efficient system
by which they were able to
evacuate their wounded during
and after an action. These
men would be hurried to one
of their hospitals, there to be
patched up with all speed, BO
that no time might be lost in
placing them once more in the
field. It is hardly to be won-
dered at that they suffered so
much from the desertion of
their askari.

With the first rays of dawn
came the weird sound of a
cock crowing weird, because
it was as unnatural as it was
unexpected. We afterwards
came to the conclusion that it
was a signal for the few re-
maining snipers to retire. At
dawn patrols were pushed out
and they reported all clear.
The wounded men, whom we
had had to leave in the open,
were all dead, and of the enemy
there seemed to be singularly
few traces. A subsequent
search disclosed many graves ;
and a great number of dead
and dying who had crawled
away and hidden in the bush
were afterwards found.

The relief with which we
learnt of the complete de-
parture of the enemy can
hardly be exaggerated, and
we were now able to draw
conclusions as to the net re-
sult of our engagement. Our
own casualties were not as
heavy as we had anticipated,
and were about half those that
we calculated we must have
inflicted on the enemy. Our

own estimate of the enemy
casualties was afterwards
greatly increased by the In-
telligence Department. We
had undoubtedly accomplished
the object for which we had
been sent out ; and, moreover,
this object had been achieved
by a far smaller force than
had been originally intended.
The success with which we
reached the enemy's line of
communication was largely
due to the unexpected failure
of their intelligence, which
usually served them so well.
Moreover, we had arrived in
time to intercept the retire-
ment of their main body, on
whom we inflicted such heavy
losses that the resistance of
the German northern forces
was for ever broken. As some
one aptly remarked during our
subsequent advance : " We
could not see their heels for
dust."

No one was more conscious
of our victory than the black
soldier himself. His tail was
indeed up, and he ever after
talked with pride of this en-
gagement. Our men certainly
went into subsequent actions
with a confidence which is not
always a trait of the African
soldier. If it did nothing else,
Beho Chini at least taught the
black soldier to dig. Hitherto
he had resented the digging of
trenches with an intense loath-
ing, but his officers now had
little need to preach the im-
portance of well-dug trenches.

At his dead the black man
sighed, but remarked : " Ba
komi; akwai Allah I"" That
is nothing ; it is Allah ! "

BA-TUBE.

1918.]

335

THE DOBRUJA RETREAT.

BY A MEMBER OF THE SCOTTISH WOMEN'S HOSPITAL.

SUNDAY the 22nd of October
1916 broke clear and bright
after a terrible night of rain,
thunder, and lightning. Those
of us who had been up most of
the night helping to pack and
get the equipment off by train
were glad of an unexpected
rest. We had been told the
evening before that everything
must be packed and away, and
we ourselves ready to start
by 5 o'clock in the morning.
The enemy was close at hand.
As we packed in the dark out
on our camping ground the
guns seemed to come nearer
and nearer : a red glow on the
skyline, flashes from the big
German cannons, burning vil-
lages away in the distance, and
an occasional flash of lightning,
made up a weird scene a great
contrast to our peaceful life of
the last few weeks, where we
had been so happy in our little
camp on the Steep. The group
of white tents standing above
the town of Mejedia was a
charming spot : one could see
for miles and miles over hill and
dale sunsets one can never for-
get. And those of us whose
work was out of doors watched
every evening for the old Rou-
manian shepherd as he led his
flocks past down to the valley.
Sitting on the steps of the
hospital in the sunshine we
discussed these things while
looking over to ur camping
ground, where two Roumanian
gipsies were busy picking up

the few things which had been
overlooked while packing by
the light of a few hurricane
lanterns. Any one looking at
us in a detached way might
have thought we were really
enjoying ourselves. Some were
writing their diaries; some
looking at films which they
had been clever enough to have
developed before the town was
entirely evacuated ; others were
trying to make out the bits in
their home newspapers which
had been smeared over with
black by the censor; but the
most popular amusements were
listening to the war news from
the Dobruja as reported in our
English newspapers, and the
cuttings about our noble selves
which had been enclosed in the
home letters. The guns were
louder than ever, and we re-
marked that the enemy must
be practically in the garden by
now, but no one seemed to be
much disturbed by the fact.
Some one even suggested that
one of the more daring of our
number should go over to a
hill, from where the battle
could be watched with a glass,
and say, with the compliments
of the Seottish women, would
the Bulgar kindly make less
noise, as Drlnglis was sleeping.
This peaceful scene was dis-
turbed, however, by an enemy
aeroplane suddenly appearing.
There was nothing new about
that, of ourse ; aeroplanes had
been daily visitors to the town

336 The Dobruja Retreat. [March

and to oar camp, and we kad meat, not a very quick oper-
got quite used to bombs drop- ation when done with pooket-
ping in our direction, some- knives. We made tea on a
times stopping in our work to Tommy's Cooker, and sat on
watoh a duel. Often the noise our bed hurdles to enjoy the
was terrible when guns from last meal we might have for
all the A.A.C. batteries were some time to oome. Our re-
tiring at once, shells whistling past finished, many of us lay
through the air and shrapnel down on a heap of straw
falling on the roof of our tents, in a corner of one of the

But this morning's visitor wards, we were very weary,
seemed more interested in us having been up most of the
than usual. We watched it at night, and I for one was
first in a casual way running soon fast asleep. But not for
out to see all there was to be long, as the Serbian doctor,
seen; in a few minutes our who looked after everything
friend was joined by other for us, rushed into the ward,
two when they were right and in a mad tone of agita-
overhead it seemed wiser to go tion, as if the enemy was at
indoors and for ten hideous his heels, called to Dr Inglis,
minutes, which seemed like who was writing letters in
hours, the hospital was her usual undisturbed way
bombed. Fortunately no harm " Come away oome away,
was done. Russian and Rou- In five minutes you must be
manian aeroplanes drove them out of here. Excuse, excuse."
away, and we were able to go He always said this when ex-
out and look round again. At cited, which was very often.
11.30 an order came that ten Off he dashed again. A
of the staff were to be off at motor -lorry was waiting at
once, as a sanitary or hospital the door of the hospital to
train was leaving in half an take the equipment for a
hour for Galatz. We had small dressing station, which
three or four invalids our Dr Inglis hoped to set up
matron had been, and still was, at Caramurat. The lorry was
very ill, so we were glad to driven by a native, who was
think they were really being to lead the way. Besides the
taken to a place of safety, equipment, seven orderlies
We saw them leave the hos- were perched in perilous posi-
pital, all saying good-bye as if tions wherever there was room,
we were never to meet again, and a very jolly crowd they
but wondering when and where looked as they waved to us on
we would meet. starting. The staff oar fol-

There were now 16 of us lowed with Dr Inglis and

left, and nothing to do but three of the staff, driven by the

wait for orders which would owner of the oar a splendid

affect ourselves. To fill in the driver at any time, but quite

time, and because we were very wonderful under the conditions

hungry, we out up our last we were to encounter. Fol-

blaok bread, and some cold lowing this oar came an am-

1918.]

The Dobruja Retreat.

337

bulanoe with the remaining
staff, and anything in the way
of food which we had not given
to those who went by train.
I do not think any of us were
sorry to leave Mejedia. It
was a most deserted, miserable-
looking place as we passed
through the town ; except for
soldiers tearing about in all
directions we seemed to be
the only people left.

As the lorry swung round
the first sharp corner after the
hospital a stretcher dropped
off. We stopped to pick it
up, and by doing so lost
sight of our guide. We did
not know which turning he
had taken, so we asked some
soldiers, who pointed to a road
which seemed very likely, and
on we went. At first it was
very difficult to see in front
of us for any distance, or to
move quickly, as the road was
lined with hundreds of forage
carts ; but in time we out-
stripped them, and had the
road, and it seemed the world,
to ourselves. It was a glori-
ous October afternoon, and the
sensation of flying through the
air acted as a tonic after the
nervous inactivity of the morn-
ing. Our guiding lorry, how-
ever, was nowhere in sight,
so we hopefully said to each
other, of course it must be
far ahead; but just to make
sure we stopped in a village,
which was entirely given over
to soldiers, to ask how far we
were from Caramurat, and if
they had seen a motor -lorry
pass through. On asking how
far we were from Caramurat
we were stared at in blank
astonishment, which, to say

VOL, CCIII. NO. MCCXXIX.

the least of it, let us see we
were not very near. An offi-
cer brought a map out of his
pocket, and showed us that
we were going in exactly the
opposite direction. We had
been told it should take us
two hours from Mejedia. Now
we were told that, even if we
did find the short outs, it
would take us five hours at
least, unless we went back to
Mejedia ; but this the drivers
refused to do, as the roads
were in a terrible condition
after the night's rain. We
were also told it was a beau-
tiful road when we reached it,
so it was decided to go ahead.
As we were starting a boy
jumped on to the step of the
oar and said he would show
us the way; but for him it
would have been impossible
to find all the short cuts by
which he led us, and it was
well worth having taken the
wrong road, as we passed
through some most beautiful
country. But the chief thing
to be remembered was the
sunset. Even the soldiers
were standing in groups spell-
bound. It is not to be de-
scribed, except feebly to say
that the sky seemed turned
to blood, with long darts of
gold laced across it. As we
passed outside a village a
group of peasants in their
picturesque costumes were sil-
houetted against the sky.
They and we were watching
an aeroplane as it swept
across the sunset and sank
slowly to earth in a field by
the roadside. At this point
our young guide left us, and
we turned into the highroad,
Y

338

The Dobruja Retreat.

[March

whioh was quite up to its
reputation. The light faded
out of the sky, and rain came
on a cold autumn rain but
the good road cheered us, and
we thought we would be no
time in covering the distance.
It was quite clear the motor-
lorry had not come that way,
and its occupants would be
waiting for us at Caramurat,
so we had no time to lose. At
first we passed a few carts,
then at some distance more
and more, till we found our-
selves in an unending pro-
cession of peasants with all
their worldly goods piled on
what seemed like scaffold-
ings of small houses, drawn
by teams of beautiful cream-
coloured oxen. Hundreds of
these erections lined the roads,
and often the contents of the
carts were most remarkable.
Pigs usually had the most
comfortable place ; in one
cart an enormous fellow was
reclining on a red pillow ;
ducks and hens tied by the
legs; sheep also drove some-
times; calves and foals ran
alongside. This procession
seemed difficult to pass, but
as time went on, added to it,
came the Roumanian army re-
treating, hundreds of guns,
cavalry, infantry, ambulances,
Red Cross carts, motor-kit-
chens, and wounded on foot
a most extraordinary scene.
The night was inky black:
the only lights were our own
head-lights and those of the
ambulance behind us, but they
revealed a sad and never-to-be-
forgotten picture as they shone
on the wearied faces of the
women, sitting amongst all

that was left of their homes,
terrified children crouching be-
side them, old men and women
in many oases lying on mat-
tresses, too ill or too old to
take any notice of what was
going on around them the
dull, patient faces of the oxen,
the terrified horses, girls
screaming, men pushing and
shouting as they tried to
make order out of chaos so
that we might pass. Our
driver was quite wonderful:
she sat unmoved, often for
half an hour at a time. There
was a block, and we had to
wait while the yelling, frantic
mob did what they could to
get into some sort of order;
then we would move on for ten
minutes and stop again ; it
was like a dream or a play, it
certainly was a tragedy. No
one spoke, we just waited and
watched it all : to us it was a
spectacle, to these poor home-
less people it was a terrible
reality. One thing was very
plain to us, and that was, we
were going in the wrong direc-
tion, as the army was retreat-
ing and the inhabitants evacu-
ating their homes; but our
orders were to go to Caramurat,
so we had to push on. We
had expected to get there by
four o'clock, but at nine o'clock
we were still some miles from
the lights whioh we were told
marked our destination. Once,
on asking how far we still had
to go, we were asked in return
why we were going there
did we not know that the
enemy was only seven kilo-
metres away? and we could see
for ourselves the burning vil-
lages reflected on the skyline.

1918.]

The Dobrwja Retreat.

339

At last we arrived at the
cross-roads, one of which led
to the little town, but it was
impossible to turn into it,
as hundreds of gun-carriages
were charging along the road
we had to take. We stopped
by the cross-roads till it seemed
as if we had been there always,
and would always stay there,
and had our driver not risked
everything and made a dash
for it, we might have been
there all night; but the dash
was a success, and we reached
the dark spot which we were
told was the town. Soldiers
sitting in groups round their
camp-fires cookiug supper were
the only signs of life. By the
light of their fires we could see
the roads lined with carts and
ambulances, horses by the hun-
dred tied to palings but even
these signs of life we passed,
and our one idea now was to
find the motor-lorry with our
seven girls. Could they pos-
sibly be in this deserted town,
and where? By this time we
were shivering and very wet,
and the prospect of a night's
rest seemed rather remote. I,
being the youngest inmate of
Dr Inglis' oar, and having a
knowledge of German, which
was very useful in Roumania,
was given the job to try and
find a clue to our missing girls.
The oar drew up in front of a
house where there was a faint
light visible below the door;
otherwise everything was in
total darkness. On getting
out of the car, the first thing I
did was te fall in the mud. I
was so cold and stiff I had no
use of my limbs, and the mud
was beyond description. How-

ever, shaking the mud off
warmed me up a little, and I
made for the house with the
light. As I put my hand up
to knock, the door opened,
and there stood in front of me
one of the Serbian soldiers who
had worked in our hospital at
Mejedia. Luck was in our
way. He was the best person
I could have met. He spoke
German, and would understand
and be able to help me. I
asked him at once if he had
seen or heard of the arrival of
the motor-lorry with the sisters
from Mejedia. He said no, but
he would go with me to the
Red Cross Station, which was
quite near, and they would be
sure to know. So I returned
to the oar, taking my Serb
with me, and told Dr Inglis
what I was going to do.

At the Bed Cross a very grim
old sister told me she knew
nothing about our sisters, but
if we were working with the
Serbians the natural place to
go was the Serbian Head-
quarters Staff. My guide said
he knew the way. So off we
started on a perfect nightmare
of a journey. He said it was
a short out. It may have been,
but I never want to go through
quite so much variety in as
short a time as we did that
night. We crossed courtyards
full of horses. We picked our
way among sleeping soldiers in
gardens. We crawled through
holes in palings : we had to
make the holes for ourselves
several times. And finally my
clever guide had to own that
we had gone wrong somewhere,
but if I theught I could get
over a high wall which atoed

340

The Dobruja Retreat

[March

in front of us, all would be
well. By this time I did not
really care what I did. So the
lusty Serb took me in his arms,
and with his help I scrambled
on to the top of the wall.
The other side was inky blaok,
but there was no time to think ;
my guide was up beside me,
and in a minute he had jumped
to the ground. I heard a
splash, then a voice saying,
" Now, Sestritza," and I j umped.
It was a leap in the dark
indeed. I know how I felt,
but I am glad there was no
opportunity of seeing how I
looked when I landed, in what
probably was a sewer ; but it
was all in the night's work,
and there was no use in feeling
siok, so we pushed on, and soon
came to a halt in a dark
courtyard. We made for a
door, and without a word my
guide darted up a long passage
and disappeared. I was left
alone, and for the first time I
realised how hungry and wet
and cold I was. I was utterly
miserable, and my instinct was
to run away, but where to?
We had come by such devi-
ous paths, I could never find
my way to the oar, so I
waited till my Serb came back,
which I daresay was only a
few minutes, although it seemed
ages. He beckoned to me to
follow him, and before I knew
where I was he had opened a
door, pushed me into a room,
shut the door, and himself
outside. In front of me I saw
one officer half dressed getting
up to meet me, and two others
lying in bed watching me. If
I had wanted to run away
before, I wanted to still more

then, but it was not as bad
as I fancied. The half-dressed
Serbian addressed me in Ger-
man, and excused their having
already retired, saying they
were leaving Caramurat at
four o'clock in the morning.
He had already been told why
I had come to see him, but had
no information to give me
about the sisters. He had
heard nothing of them, but if
I went to the Russian Head-
quarters he was sure they
could tell me if any one from
the English Hospital had
arrived. I thanked him, and
joined my guide, who was
waiting for me outside.

So off we started again, but
this time on a real road, and very
soon came to a more imposing
building. Again I waited out-
side, while my guide went to
reconnoitre, and again I was
suddenly propelled into a room.
This time my interview was
very brief. The room was full
of officers, tired-looking men.
There were maps on a big
table, maps on the floor and on
the wall. Some were bending
over them, some were writing.
The telephone was going all
the time, and as names were
called out, they were traced on
the maps. I felt such a miser-
able worm, bothering these
anxious-looking men, who had
their hands only too full al-
ready. So I explained very
quickly to the General why
I was there, and I would be
obliged if he could give me
any information. He only
stared at me and said: "I
know nothing of the ladies;
but take my advice and leave
this place at once all of you.

1918.]

The Dobruja Retreat.

341

It is no plaoe for women at
this time. The enemy is
only seven kilometres distant ;
they will be here in the
morning." Adding, however,
as he opened the door for me :
"Go to the Roumanian Head-
quarters, if you have not al-
ready been there. They may.
have news."

We had only to cross the
courtyard. An orderly was
standing outside. When he
heard my business, without any
warning he showed me into
a room; and, for the third
time, I found myself explain-
ing that I was seeking for
news of the sisters who had
left Mejedia for Caramurat that
afternoon. This time I was
not to get off so easily. The
remains of a meal were still
on the table: they had dined
well. When I entered the
room a shout went up, and
one youth planted himself
with his back to the door, at
which every one laughed. I
was conscious of looking per-
fectly hideous. I was wet
and cold and hungry, and
frightened and dead tired, my
hair plastered down with the
rain; a grey shirt and tartan
tie not too becoming at
the best of times, and still
less so when one's face is
blue with cold; a waterproof
splashed with mud, and boots
like a ploughman's after a
day's work. The effect on these

faily-dressed Roumanians must
ave been rather startling
when this freak said she was
one of the staff from the
English Hospital, whose fame
had gone abroad as being
very smart and workmanlike.

Womanlike, being conscious of
all this, it did net make me feel
any happier, and I saw quickly
I was to get no satisfaction
here. Some pretended they
knew all about the girls, and
said I should not bother they
would be all right. When I
said I must find them that
night, they all laughed. I
was very angry inside, but I
knew it would do me no good
to show it. At last one man,
who was still busy with his
dinner, called out "The Ser-
bian doctor knows where they
are." I asked where he was
to be found, and requested
that my guide might be told
where to find him. The
youth with his back to the
door was inclined to be im-
pertinent; and I had just had
about as much as I could
stand when an older man,
who had been studying a map
on the wall, came forward,
took the boy by the arm and
pushed him away. And as I
passed him ha said : " Leave
here at once. This is no plaoe
for you ; we are all leaving in
a few hours." Oh, how thank-
ful I was to join my simple
Serb even though it meant
another scramble through gar-
dens and holes in palings and
backyards, till we came to a
field in which there was a
tent! And here the Serbian
doctor was to be found. I
sent my guide to interview
him, but he returned with the
usual answer : the doctor had
heard nothing of them, but
we must ge to the Serbian
Staff; they knew we were
coming, and had a room for
us to sleep in; so if any one

342

The Dobruja Retreat.

[March

knew, they must know. So
again we went to the room
where I had begun my search,
a-nd again I interviewed the
unfortunate men who were
leaving at four o'clock next
morning. I said, one of them
must come with me to Dr
Inglis and tell her himself
that nothing had been heard
of the missing girls. Very
unwillingly my German-speak-
ing friend left his mattress
and got into his top-boots
and coat. I was not going
to risk losing him, so I stayed
in the room till he was ready
to accompany me. When at
last we reached the oar, the
inmates said they had just
been wondering what would
be the best way to set about
finding me, as they supposed
I also had got lost.

I was glad to hand my Ser-
bian officer over to Dr Inglis,
who, after a short conversation,
was quite convinced the missing
girls had not arrived in Cara-
murat. So the next thing to
do was to get a room for the
night and " a good meat meal."
The poor man looked rather
dismayed. He said the room
was quite easy, that had al-
ready been arranged, but a
meal was quite impossible.
The town was evacuated,
there had been no food to be
got for days, he could get us
some chi. But Dr Inglis would
not hear of that; she said we
had eaten nothing since morn-
ing, and it was then 11.30 ;
there must be some food to
be got. The car was drawn
up to the roadside, a soldier
left to guard it, and we went
off to the room which was pre-

pared for us. To get to it we
had to walk along a passage
packed with sleeping soldiers.
It was very difficult stepping
between them by the light of
a match, but we reached our
haven of rest at last. Though
it was only a bare room, with
straw in heaps on the floor,
and green blankets to wrap
ourselves in, to cold shivering
beings like ourselves it seemed
all that heart could desire.
Presently two Serbian soldiers
came in, bringing a basin,
towels, and soap. One held
the basin, after the Serbian
custom, while the other one
poured the water slowly on to
our hands. Never shall I for-
get the delight of lying down
on the straw, the dry warm
blanket rolled round me. In
a few minutes I was fast
asleep, as was every one else.
Then a most wonderful thing
happened. We could not have
been asleep more than an hour,
when the door opened and
several soldiers entered with
the most beautiful meal I ever
ate. It was like a fairy
tale. Where did it come from ?
The lovely soup, the real
Kussian Borsh and roast tur-
key "and plenty of bread and
chi. We ate like wolves, and
I can remember so distinctly
sitting up in my straw nest,
with my blanket round me,
and hearing Dr Inglis' cheery
voice saying, "Isn't this better
than having to start and cook
a meal ? " She was the most
extraordinary person : when
she said she must have a
thing, she got it, and it was
never for herself, always for
others. At the time I do not

1918.]

The Dobruja Retreat.

343

think we were sufficiently
grateful for our meal, because
it must have meant that it
was prepared for some one
leaving in the early morning,
and they would go without
probably the poor man whom
I had twice dragged out of
bed, returning good for evil.
We were again soon fast
asleep, but at intervals were
awakened by different mem-
bers of the unit, all of whom
had been told to make for
Caramurat for safety. On
arriving in the town they
were told where we were
sleeping, and they joined us
for a few hours' rest.

At dawn our Serbian friend
of the night before eame to say
good-bye. "You understand,"
he said, "the Bulgar makes
no prisoners of us; if caught,
we are shot." He left us re-
peating what every one had
said: "Get off early in the
morning; the enemy is very
near." As son as it was
light most of us got up. We
heard that our transport had
arrived after various very
thrilling experiences : they
were having breakfast in a
stable in our courtyard, so we
joined them, and shared their
very comforting hot tea. The
morning was bitterly cold.
About six o'clock a motor
cyclist arrived with a message
for Dr Inglis, telling her the
missing sisters were safe : they
had been stopped half-way,
and were waiting for orders
from her how to proceed. It
was a great relief to all of
us to know they were safe.
At 6.30 the oars were lined
up on the road, each driver

standing beside her oar, wait-
ing for Mrs Haverfield, the
head of the transport, to give
the word of command to start.
Soon the last car disappeared ;
they were making for Galatz
as the finishing point so were
we all, but by various routes